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First Steps m 

American ^British 

Authors 



BL/usdell 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



(DjajUT?. ®opjp*# "fyM-- 
Shelf-OBe. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



BY ALBERT F. BU/SDELL M.D. A.M. 



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STUDY OF THE ENGLISH CLASSICS 

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A GUIDE TO ENGLISH LITERATURE $1.00 

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LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS BOSTON 

10 Milk Street next Old South Meeting-House 



English Literature for Young People 



FIRST STEPS 



AMERICAN and BRITISH 
AUTHORS 



BY 



ALBERT F. BLAISDELL A.M. 



AUTHOR OF "THE STUDY OF THE ENGLISH CLASSICS CHILD S BOOK OF 

HEALTH" "HOW TO KEEP WELL" "OUR BODIES 

AND HOW WE LIVE" ETC. 




BOSTON 
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 

IO MILK STREET NEXT OLD SOUTH MEETING-HOUSE 
1888 






\« 



Copyright, 1888, 
By LEE AND SHEPARD. 



All rights reserved. 



First Steps in the English Classics. 



PREFACE. 



Within the past few years the method of teaching 
English literature in our public schools has changed for 
the better. A systematic study of the texts of English 
classic authors is now very generally held to be an impor- 
tant part of the regular course in most schools of a higher 
grade. In brief, pupils study what great authors have 
written, and not what some one has written about authors. 
Little has been done, however, to provide students with 
a judicious and methodical introduction to the English 
classic texts. Little attempt has been to map out a special 
course of study, or to furnish such suggestive details 
as are needed in the classroom work. Before entering 
upon the formal study of any representative author, pupils 
should have also a thorough drill on simple pieces. 

This book aims to supply such a want. It is intended 
to serve as the basis of a regular course of study in 
English literature. Enough material, supplemented by 
a goodly amount of illustrative matter, is furnished for a 
methodical introduction to our best authors. For a year's 
work at least, no other book is necessary except an occa- 
sional copy of an inexpensive school text. The arrange- 
ment of the book is such that the work upon each author 
may be abridged or extended as the time allotted for the 



iv PREFACE. 

course, and the age and capabilities of the pupil, may 
permit. The details of the plan are more fully set forth 
in Chapters I. and II. Teachers will doubtless find a 
former work by the author called " Study of the English 
Classics," useful as a book of reference. 

Some of the selections will have a familiar look to 
advanced students. Certain standard pieces never grow 
old. They are always new to each generation of young 
people. Our aim has been to select such pieces as are 
most interesting and suitable for classroom purposes. 
Hence some of the texts do not represent their authors 
at their best. The ambitious scholar should not rest 
content with merely studying this book. A text-book at 
the best is only a convenient and suggestive outline of the 
subject to be taught. Each and every topic in the suc- 
ceeding pages should be more fully discussed and illus- 
trated. 

The thanks of the author are due to Messrs. Houghton, 

Mifflin, & Co., G. P. Putnam's Sons, and others, for kind 

permission to use selections from their copyrighted 

authors. 

ALBERT F. BLAISDELL. 

Providence, R.I., December, 1887. 



CONTENTS, 



CHAPTER . FAGE 

I. Introductory i 

II. The Wreck of the Hesperus as a Model 7 

III. The Norman Baron as a Model 30 

IV. The Lord of Burleigh as a Model 54 

V. Outlines for the Study of a Prose Selection ... 81 

VI. Outline Course of Study in English Literature. . 126 

VII. Henry W. Longfellow 141 

VIII. Washington Irving 149 

IX. John G. Whittier 162 

X. Oliver Goldsmith .168 

XI. William Cullen Bryant 184 

XII. Thomas Gray 191 

XIII. Nathaniel Hawthorne 198 

XIV. Robert Burns 209 

XV. Oliver Wendell Holmes 218 

XVI. Sir Walter Scott 224 

XVII. Alfred Tennyson 241 

XVIII. Joseph Addison 249 

XIX. Lord Byron 260 

XX. William Cowper . 276, 

XXI. William Shakespeare . 282. 

XXII. John Milton 287 

XXIII. Miscellaneous Subjects in English Literature . . 297. 

NOTES 309 

INDEX 343 



FIRST STEPS IN THE ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 



i. Literature in General. — Literature in a general way 
has reference to the written productions of a nation, but 
in a more limited sense refers only to those writings 
which come within the .province of the literary art ; in 
other words, literature, as commonly spoken of, excludes 
scientific and technical works, and is synonymous with 
elegant or polite literature, or belles-lettres as the French 
call it. 

Literature has often been defined. Emerson says it is 
the record of the best thoughts. "By literature," says 
Stopford Brooke, "we mean the written thoughts and 
feelings of intelligent men and women, arranged in a way 
that shall give pleasure to the reader." Says John Morley, 
" Poets, dramatists, humorists, satirists, masters of fiction, 
the great preachers, the character-writers, the maxim- 
writers, the great political orators, they are all literature, 
in so far as they teach us to know men, and to know 
human nature. This is what makes literature a proper 
instrument for a systematic training of the imagination 
and sympathies, and of a genial and varied moral sensi- 
bility." 



2 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Strictly speaking, English literature refers only to the 
written productions of the British people. But inasmuch 
as the English-speaking world embraces two great nations, ' 
besides vast colonial dependencies, the term " English 
literature " is commonly used in its broad sense, referring 
thereby to the great classic authors who have written in 
the English language. English literature may thus in- 
clude the writings of both British and American authors. 
If we wish to be exact, we may designate the literature 
of Great Britain as British literature, and that of the 
United States as American literature. 

2. The Study of English Literature. — Why do we 
study literature ? The answer is brief. To be happy, and 
to do our whole duty, it is of paramount importance that 
we should habitually live with wise thoughts and right 
feelings. What will help us to this gracious companion- 
ship ? A deep and abiding love for all that is good in 
literature. Hence its study is earnestly commended to 
our interest and care. 1 "The object of literature in educa- 
tion," says John Henry Newman, "is to open the mind, 
to correct it, to refine it, to enable it to comprehend and 
digest its knowledge, to give it power over its faculties, 
application, flexibility, method, critical exactness, sagacity, 
address, and expression." 

The story of our English literature began about twelve 



1 " To create and maintain in every student the highest ideal of human life, is, or 
ought to be, the chief work of any higher school. There is no study like, that of the 
best literature to form and glorify such an ideal. It reveals possibilities, touches to 
finer issues, broadens thought, kindles faith, sets the soul free, quickens and greatens, 
as nothing else can. 

"Arm in arm with a universal author, you are in living contact with the great facts 
and laws of nature and of human existence; you see them from the master's lofty 
standpoint, and your life is larger than before." — Homer B. Sprague. 



INTRO D UCTOR Y. 3 

hundred years ago, and is still going on. The roll-call of 
poets and prose-writers who have added to its treasures 
is long and splendid. To study English literature, is to 
become acquainted with the writings of the great authors 
who have made it what it is. It is to get at the charac- 
teristics of those master minds whose works have been 
universally accepted as classics. It is to read and re-read 
these masterpieces, in which moral truth and human 
passion are touched with a certain largeness and attrac- 
tiveness of form, until their essence becomes a part of our 
real life. 1 

This it is that makes the study of English literature, 
wisely selected and wisely studied, not the trifling occu- 
pation of a leisure hour, but a most efficient instrument 
for intellectual and moral discipline. 

3. Methods of Study. The Old and the New. — The 
importance of a more or less extended course in English 
literature in schools of a higher grade is now generally 
recognized. Within a few vears the method of instruc- 
tion has been changed for the better. Too much time in 
past years has been given to the routine study of some 
manual of English literary history, and too little attention 
paid to the methodical study of the writings of standard 
authors ; in brief, pupils have been taught to study merely 
about authors, and not to study authors. 

The time-honored method, and the method that is occa- 
sionally employed, was to place in the hands of the pupil 

1 " I need not tell you that you will find that most books worth reading once 
are worth reading twice ; and, what is most important of all, the masterpieces of 
literature are worth reading a thousand times. It is a great mistake to think that 
because you have read a masterpiece once or twice, or ten times, therefore you have 
done with it : because it is a masterpiece, you ought to live with it, and make it part 
of your daily life." — John Morley. 



4 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

some compend of the history of English literature, and to 
require stated lessons from its several chapters, as in the 
old-time method of studying a text-book on chemistry or 
history. 

The pupil may thus become familiar with certain facts 
and borrowed opinions about authors, and yet scarcely have 
read a line of the writings of the authors themselves. By 
this method a familiarity with English literary history is 
gained, rather than with English literature : for example, 
a pupil might be able to mention all the plays of Shak- 
speare, and yet have never read a line of one of his plays 
for himself, or had any opinion of his own about the great 
dramatist. In fact, by this method every requirement of 
the teacher could be met, and a creditable examination be 
passed, by a student who had never read a line of the 
authors under discussion. Again, so dreary and so repul- 
sive did this process become to average young pupils, that 
very few were disposed in after-years to cultivate a more 
intelligent acquaintance with standard authors. 

The first and highest aim in the study of English litera- 
ture is thus lost sight of by this radically defective method 
of instruction. P"or, the main purpose of a necessarily 
brief course in this branch of study in our schools is to 
cultivate a taste for good literature, to stimulate a love 
for systematic and wholesome reading, and to illustrate 
the principles which should guide us in selecting healthful 
books and authors to be read in after-life. 1 



1 " My object throughout the class-room study of English literature would be to 
cultivate an intelligent appreciation, a positive love, for those treasures of genius, 
those masterpieces of literary art, which are embodied in our mother tongue ; such a 
love as would be a delight, a sustaining, comforting, restraining influence, through- 
out life." — J. H. Gilmore. 



INTRODUCTORY. 5 

4. The Plan of This Book.— The defective method of 
instruction, to which we have alluded, has been superseded 
of late years, at least in most of our best schools, by the 
more sensible, and, in fact, the only true method ; viz., a 
methodical and thorough study of the text of a few great 
classic authors, supplemented by the necessary amount of 
oral instruction and collateral study. 

Many able scholars and teachers have done much of 
late years, by their writings, to advance the study of Eng- 
lish literature to its proper place in the school curriculum. 
Well-edited and inexpensive editions of our best authors, 
well-arranged for school use, are now easily obtained. 

By this method it is obvious that pupils, and many 
teachers too, need, and should have, a goodly amount of 
help to enable them to study to the best advantage the 
texts of our standard authors : as in any other branch of 
school-work, explicit directions and practical suggestions 
are needed to help the student to a proper understanding 
of the subject. 

Hence it has been our plan to prepare a useful and 
practical hand-book, which will furnish the young student 
with such general and particular directions, homely details 
and helps, as will serve as an introduction to a systematic 
course of study in English literature. In a general way, 
our plan is to study methodically the texts of a few rep- 
resentative authors, and not merely to read about many 
authors. It is to study what great authors have written, 
and not what some one has written about them. Every 
thing is made subordinate to this great aim. 

The order in which the plan of work is arranged is 
simply for convenience. Experience shows, that, as in 
any other line of school-work, the less difficult should 



6 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

come first. Before the formal study of any particular 
author is begun, pupils should have some experience in the 
proper method of studying a given piece ; hence, in the first 
few chapters, the texts of a variety of choice selections 
have been given, with full explanations. The arrangement 
of the book is such that the representative authors may 
be taken up in any order that may be deemed best. 
The general principle is, that the less difficult and more 
modern authors should come first in order. " From 
the modern and more easily apprehended specimens of 
English and American literature," says J. H. Gilmore, "I 
should work back to those which are more obscure and 
more difficult." 

A word of caution may be necessary in reference to the 
analyses, examples, formal questions, etc. They are in- 
tended to be used simply as hints and helps ; hence they 
are not to be copied or re-arranged by the pupil, but are 
to serve as guides to him in his preparation for the class- 
room. 



WRECK OF THE HESPERUS AS A MODEL. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS AS A MODEL. 

General Plan of Study: Use of the Guide Analysis. 

— In order to do thorough and systematic work in the 
study of English classic authors, each member of the class 
should follow the same general plan. For convenience, 
we may call this general plan of study which has been 
adopted in the following pages a "guide analysis." It is 
intended to serve as a general guide to the pupil. It is a 
kind of chart, by means of which the student may direct 
his course to a more systematic understanding of any 
standard production in English literature. 1 

In its various forms, which will be more fully explained 
hereafter, the guide analysis will help the beginner to 
study, recite, and retain in the memory, the important 
points of a standard piece of prose or poetry. 

After the student has become familiar with this general 
plan for the study of a simple poem, or easy prose selection, 

1 " It is impossible, and, were it possible, it would not be desirable, to lay down a 
set of rules for the guidance of teachers in teaching the works named in the succeed- 
ing pages, which would meet the case of every teacher and of every class. Not 
only do teachers differ in their mental constitution ; not only do classes vary in 
ability, thoroughness of training, and in other respects : but the selections to be read 
differ in length, in subject, in form, and in character. All that we can do is to state 
the principles which should, in our opinion, be acted upon by teachers of English 
literature. The application of these principles must be made by the teachers them- 
selves." 



8 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

and has also acquired some skill in filling in orally, 
or by written exercises, whatever is necessary under the 
several headings, this analysis may be dropped for another 
form of the same general plan, called the " special analy- 
sis," which is to be specially adapted to every subsequent 
selection. 



We have selected Longfellow's beautiful ballad, "The 
Wreck of the Hesperus," as our first piece to study. 1 It 
is simple and interesting. It merits our best efforts. 
We are now ready to begin its study, with the aid of the 
following guide analysis : — 

GUIDE ANALYSIS : THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 

I. Read the poem carefully and thoughtfully. 

II. Recite the story of the poem. 

III. The study of the text. 

IV. The author of the poem : Henry W. Longfellow. 

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 

It was the schooner Hesperus, 

That sailed the wintry sea ; 
And the skipper had taken his little daughter, 

To bear him company. 

1 " Your great object should be to be thorough ; to learn but a little at a time, 
but to learn that little well. A very short poem, thoroughly comprehended in all its 
parts, will do to make a beginning upon. Any lesson of this sort that is really well 
learnt is a piece of solid work done ; it serves for a stepping-stone to the next piece." 
— Walter W. Skeat. 



WRECK OF THE HESPERUS AS A MODEL. 9 

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, 5 

Her cheeks like the dawn of day, 
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds 

That ope in the month of May. 

The skipper he stood beside the helm, 

His pipe was in his mouth, 10 

And he watched how the veering flaw did blow 

The smoke now west, now south. 

Then up and spake an old sail6r, 

Had sailed to the Spanish Main, — 
" I pray thee, put into yonder port, i 5 

For I fear a hurricane. 

" Last night the moon had a golden ring, 

And to-night no moon we see ! " 
The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe, 

And a scornful laugh laughed he. 20 

Colder and louder blew the wind, 

A gale from the north-east ; 
The snow fell hissing in the brine, 

And the billows frothed like yeast. 

Down came the storm, and smote amain 25 

The vessel in its strength ; 
She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, 

Then leaped her cable's length. 

" Come hither ! come hither ! my little daughter, 

And do not tremble so ; 30 

For I can weather the roughest gale 
That ever wind did blow." 



IO FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat 

Against the stinging blast ; 
He cut a rope from a broken spar, 35 

And bound her to the mast. 

" O father ! I hear the church-bells ring, 

O say, what may it be ? " 
" 'Tis a fog- bell on a rock-bound coast ! " — 

And he steered for the open sea. 4 o 

" O father ! I hear the sound of guns, 

O say, what may it be? " 
" Some ship in distress, that cannot live 

In such an angry sea ! " 

" O father ! I see a gleaming light, 45 

O say, what may it be ? " 
But the father answered never a word, 

A frozen corpse was he. 



5° 



Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, 

With his face turned to the skies, 
The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow 

On his fixed and glassy eyes. 



Then the maiden clasped her hands, and prayed 

That saved she might be ; 
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave 55 

On the Lake of Galilee. 

And fast through the midnight dark and drear, 

Through the whistling sleet and snow, 
Like a sheeted ghost the vessel swept 

Towards the reef of Norman's Woe. 60 



WRECK OF THE HESPERUS AS A MODEL. I 1 

And ever, the fitful gusts between, 

A sound came from the land ; 
It was the sound of the trampling surf 

On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. 

The breakers were right beneath her bows, 65 

She drifted a dreary wreck, 
And a whooping billow swept the crew 

Like icicles from her deck. 

She struck where the white and fleecy waves 

Looked soft as carded wool, 70 

But the cruel rocks they gored her side 
Like the horns of an angry bull. 

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, 

With the masts went by the board ; 
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank. 75 

Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared. 

At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, 

A fisherman stood aghast, 
To see the form of a maiden fair, 

Lashed close to a drifting mast. 80 

The salt sea was frozen on her breast, 

The salt tears in her eyes \ 
And he saw her hair, like the brown seaweed, 

On the billows fall and rise. 

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, 85 

In the midnight and the snow. 
Christ save us all from a death like this, 

On the reef of Norman's Woe ! 



12 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



EXPLANATION OF THE GUIDE ANALYSIS. 

I. Read the Poem carefully and thoughtfully. — Before 
coming into the class, read the poem aloud and silently. 
As a part of the home preparation, read and re-read the 
piece selected for the day's recitation, until it is well 
understood. Come to recitation prepared to read it aloud 
with some attention to elocution ; that is, take special 
pains to express clearly the thought with such modifica- 
tions of the voice as the sentiment requires. Short 
poems, and the best passages in long poems, should be 
committed to memory, and recited. 1 

II. Recite the Story of the Poem. — The poem having 
been studied carefully as a part of the home preparation, 
and read in the class-room with some intelligence, and 
with proper feeling and emphasis, the pupil is now pre- 
pared to recite the "story" of the poem orally. 

This should be done first without reference to the text, 
telling the story in easy, familiar words. Then, with the 
text of the piece before him, the pupil should translate it 
into simple prose, transposing and changing the original 
wording as he may be able. This may be made a class 
exercise. Let one pupil begin, and have others follow, 
each taking up the story where his classmate leaves off. 

During this exercise, both teacher and pupils may make 

1 " Let such pieces be learned well by heart. This should be made a necessary- 
part of the out-school work, — of ' preparation.' While something more than the 
memory is to be thought of, and a mere loading of that faculty is before all things to 
be deprecated, the memory is not to be neglected. It is no trivial blessing to have 
the memory furnished in one's youth with what is worth remembering to the end of 
one's life, and grows more and more precious as we grow older, and discern better its 
virtues." — J. W. Hales. 



WRECK OF THE HESPERUS AS A MODEL. 13 

such comments and criticisms as will afford a better idea 
of the story, if it is a narrative, or to form a more accurate 
mental picture of the scene described. These comments 
should not, however, interfere with the interest of the 
story or description, but should serve simply as helps to 
a better understanding of the piece. 

III. Study of the Text. — In the study of English classic 
authors, the main thing to be aimed at by the pupil is to 
clearly and fully understand the meaning of the piece 
selected for study, and to appreciate the beauty and 
nobleness of its thoughts and language. 

Hence the explanation of allusions, the pointing out 
of the figures of speech, the derivation of words, and 
other minor matters, should be strictly subordinated to 
this great aim. Yet a large amount of information may 
be imparted, and a very valuable training given, by de- 
voting a certain amount of time to such matters. 

Every student of English literature has already a consid- 
erable store of facts. Let him now turn to good account 
this stock of information. Even in a simple poem, like 
"The Wreck of the Hesperus," nothing should be over- 
looked that will help to a better understanding of the 
poem. Let the pupil ask himself questions, and do his 
best to answer them. Let him say to himself, as he 
studies each passage, " Now, do I understand this ? " No 
pupil should ask of another what he can think out or find 
out for himself. The habit- of independent search, how- 
ever humble may be the first efforts, is of the greatest 
benefit. 

The ability to answer any ordinary question on the text 
of a given lesson is a fair test of the pupil's having 
properly prepared his lesson. It must be remembered, 



14 FIRST STEPS TV ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

that, at the most, printed questions are only suggestive. 
They may serve, however, to give a hint, to awaken a 
thought, and to suggest the idea of a question which can 
be readily clothed in words. 

IV. The Author of the Piece. — The moment we be- 
come interested in the personal life of the author whose 
works we are studying, his writings assume a new in- 
terest, and that which was becoming dull and irksome 
will soon prove a source of real pleasure and profit. 

Even in the most elementary work, the somewhat 
monotonous study of the text may be enlivened by in- 
teresting gossipy incidents, anecdotes, illustrations from 
periodicals, and literary references, easily culled in these 
days of abundant books and papers. 

A few facts about the life and times of an author are of 
much greater value than many petty details, unimportant 
dates and facts, and verbose criticisms. 1 The study of the 
text is of the first importance ; the details of the life and 
times of each author are of comparatively little value, and 
should always take a secondary place in class-room work. : 

Having just read "The Wreck of the Hesperus," we 
may not unnaturally wish to know something of the 
person who wrote it. We have been charmed with its 
simplicity and pathos. Who, then, was its author ? The 
text says it was Henry W. Longfellow. Who was Long- 
fellow ? When and where did he live ? What else did 
he write ? Have you read any other of his writings ? 

1 " It is better to read thoroughly one simple play or poem, than to know details 
about all the dramatists and poets. The former trains the brain to judge of other 
plays or poems : the latter only loads the memory with details that can at any time 
be found, when required, in books of reference." — F. G. Flkay. 



WRECK OF THE HESPERUS AS A MODEL. 15 

The following " Outline of Life " may be of service to 
the pupil : — 

Outline of Life : Henry W. Longfellow. Sugges- 
tive Topics. — When and where born ; where did he attend 
college ? what famous author was his classmate ? college 
professorship; travels in Europe; his first literary work ; 
professor at Harvard ; resigned in 1854, but continued to 
live in Cambridge until his death in 1882; some of his 
principal productions, — prose, poems, translations ; some- 
thing about the " Craigie House," in which Longfellow 
lived for so many years ; Longfellow's personal appear- 
ance. 



EXERCISE. 

A FEW QUESTIONS 0N T THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 

What is the meaning of the word Hesperus? Is this an appropriate 
name for a vessel ? What is the meaning of the word skipper? How does 
a skipper differ from a master or captain? In the first line of stanza 2, 
explain the figure of rhetoric in detail. Explain the figure in the second line 
of stanza 2. What is meant by a veering flaw? Was it a sign of danger? 
What is meant by "sailed the Spanish Main '•'? Is the word hurricane used 
literally, or poetically ? Explain the " golden ring " round the moon. What 
does the second line in the same stanza mean? Explain the phrase, "snow 
fell hissing in the brine." Distinguish between the literal and poetical use of 
the word brine. Explain how the " billows frothed like yeast." What is 
meant by cable's length ? How can a vessel be said to shudder? Why does 
the little girl think that she hears the church-bells ring ? Explain how the 
fog-bell is used to warn mariners of danger. What is the biblical reference 
in stanza 14 ? 

TO THE TEA CHER. — To train the young student to select the most suitable parts of a 
piece for study outside of the class-room, the teacher should direct his pupils, for a few lessons 
at least, to underline with pencil sundry words, phrases, or passages. 

Attention is thus called to such important literary, geographical, or historical references 
as are found in almost every selection. Practice will soon teach the pupil to seize upon the 
salient points of any simple piece, without leaning upon so poor a crutch as a pencil. 

Example. — Words to be checked ivith pencit, and explained ', in the first ten stanzas 
of " The Wreck of the Hesperus : " schooner, Hesperus, wintry sea, skipper, fairy-flax, 
hawthorn-buds, helm, veering flaw, Spanish Main, hurricane, golden ring, billows frothed like 
yeast, frighted steed, cable's length, stinging blast, broken spar, fog-bells, rock-bound, open 
sea. 



l6 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 

We are now prepared to study the following poems on 
the same general plan as "The Wreck of the Hesperus." 
While it is not advisable to follow too closely any one's 
particular suggestions, yet the same general directions 
should be insisted upon to insure good results. 



THE INCHCAPE ROCK. 

ROBERT SOUTHEY. 

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, 
The ship was still as she could be ; 
Her sails from heaven received no motion ; 
Her keel was steady in the ocean. 

Without either sign or sound of their shock, 
The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock ; 
So little they rose, so little they fell, 
They did not move the Inchcape Bell. 

The Abbot of Aberbrothok 
Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock ; 
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, 
And over the waves its warning rung. 

When the rock was hid by the surge's swell, 
The mariners heard the warning bell ; 
And then they knew the perilous rock, 
And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothok. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. I J 

The sun in heaven was shining gay ; 

All things were joyful on that day ; 

The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled round, 

And there was joyance in their sound. 20 

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen, 
A darker speck on the ocean green : 
Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck, 
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck. 

He felt the cheering power of spring ; 2 ? 

It made him whistle, it made him sing : 

His heart was mirthful to excess, 

But the Rover's mirth was wickedness. 

His eye was on the Inchcape float ; 

Quoth he, " My men, put out the boat, - 

And row me to the Inchcape Rock, 

And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok." 

The boat is lowered, the boatmen row, 

And to the Inchcape Rock they go : 

Sir Ralph bent over from the boat, 35 

And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float : 

Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound ; 

The bubbles rose and burst around : 

Quoth Sir Ralph, " The next who comes to the rock 

Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok." 

Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away ; 
He scoured the seas for many a day ; 
And now, grown rich with plundered store, 
He steers his course for Scotland's shore. 



40 



1 8 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky, 45 

They cannot see the sun on high : 
The wind hath blown a gale all day ; 
At evening it hath died away. 

On the deck the Rover takes his stand ; 

So dark it is, they see no land. 5 o 

Quoth Sir Ralph, " It will be lighter soon, 

For there is the dawn of the rising moon." 

" Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar? 

For methinks we should be near the shore." 

" Now where we are I cannot tell, 55 

But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell." 

They hear no sound ; the swell is strong ; 

Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along, 

Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock : 

" O Christ ! it is the Inchcape Rock ! " 60 

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair ; 
He cursed himself in his despair ; 
The waves rush in on every side ; 
The ship is sinking beneath the tide. 

But, even in his dying fear, 65 

One dreadful sound could the Rover hear, — 
A sound as if, with the Inchcape Bell, 
The Devil below was ringing his knell. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 
WE ARE SEVEN. 

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 

A simple child, 
That lightly draws its breath, 
And feels its life in every limb, 
What should it know of death? 

I met a little cottage girl ; 

She was eight years old, she said : 
Her hair was thick with many a curl 

That clustered round her head. 

She had a rustic, woodland air, 

And she was wildly clad ; 
Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; 

Her beauty made me glad. 

" Sisters and brothers, little maid, 

How many may you be ? " 
" How many? Seven in all," she said, 

And wondering looked at me. 

" And where are they? I pray you tell. 

She answered, " Seven are we ; 
And two of us at Conway dwell, 

And two are gone to sea. 

" Two of us in the churchyard lie, — 
My sister and my brother, — 

And in the churchyard cottage I 
Dwell near them with my mother." 



20 FIRST STEPS IN ENGIISH CIASSICS. 

" You say that two at Conway dwell, 25 

And two are gone to sea ; 
Yet ye are seven. I pray you tell, 

Sweet maid, how this may be." 

Then did the little maid reply, — 

" Seven boys and girls are we ; 3 o 

Two of us in the churchyard lie, 

Beneath the churchyard tree." 

" You run about, my little maid ; 

Your limbs they are alive ; 
If two are in the churchyard laid, 35 

Then ye are only five." 

"Their graves are green ; they may be seen," 

The little maid replied, 
" Twelve steps or more from my mother's door ; 

And they are side by side. 40 

" My stockings there I often knit, 

My kerchief there I hem ; 
And there upon the ground I sit, — 

I sit and sing to them. 

" And often, after sunset, sir, 45 

When it is light and fair, 
I take my little porringer, 

And eat my supper there. 

" The first that died was little Jane ; 

In bed she moaning lay 50 

Till God released her of her pain, 

And then she went away. 



SELECTIOA r S FOR STUDY. 21 

" So in the churchyard she was laid ; 

And, when the grass was dry, 
Together round her grave we played, — . 55 

My brother John and I. 

" And when the ground was white with snow, 

And I could run and slide, 
My brother John was forced to go ; 

And he lies by her side." 60 

" How many are you, then," said I, 

" If they two are in heaven? " 
The little maiden did reply, 

" O master ! we are seven." 

" But they are dead, — those two are dead ; 65 

Their spirits are in heaven." 
'Twas throwing words away ; for still 
The little maid would have her will, 

And said, " Nay, we are seven." 



THE WHITE-FOOTED DEER. 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 

It was a hundred years ago, 
When, by the woodland ways, 

The traveller saw the wild-deer drink, 
Or crop the birchen sprays. 

Beneath a hill whose rocky side 
O'erbrowed a grassy mead, 

And .fenced a cottage from the wind, 
A deer was wont to feed. 



22 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

She only came when on the cliffs 

The evening moonlight lay, 10 

And no man knew the secret haunts 

In which she walked by day. 

White were her feet, her forehead showed 

A spot of silvery white, 
That seemed to glimmer like a star 15 

In autumn's hazy night. 

And here, when sang the whippoorwill, 

She cropped the sprouting leaves, 
And here her rustling steps were heard 

On still October eves. 20 

But when the broad midsummer moon 

Rose o'er that grassy lawn, 
Beside the silver-footed deer 

There grazed a spotted fawn. 

The cottage dame forbade her son 25 

To aim the rifle here ; 
" It were a sin," she said, " to harm 

Or fright that friendly deer. 

"This spot has been my pleasant home 

Ten peaceful years and more ; 30 

And ever, when the moonlight shines, 
She feeds before our door. 

"The red-men say that here she walked 

A thousand moons ago ; 
They never raise the war-whoop here, 35 

And never twang the bow. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 23 

" I love to watch her as she feeds, 

And think that all is well 
While such a gentle creature haunts 

The place in which we dwell." 40 

The youth obeyed, and sought for game 

In forests far away, 
Where deep in silence and in moss 

The ancient woodland lay. 

But once, in autumn's golden time, 45 

He ranged the wild in vain, 
Nor roused the pheasant nor the deer, 

And wandered home again. 

The crescent moon, and crimson eve, 

Shone with a mingled light ; 50 

The deer upon a grassy mead 

Was feeding full in sight. 

He raised the rifle to his eye, 

And from the cliffs around 
A sudden echo, shrill and sharp, 55 

Gave back its deadly sound. 

Away into the neighboring wood 

The startled creature flew, 
And crimson drops at morning lay 

Amid the glimmering dew. 60 

Next evening shone the waxing moon 

As brightly as before ; 
The deer upon the grassy mead 

Was seen again no more. 



24 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

But ere that crescent moon was old, 65 

By night the red-men came, 
And burnt the cottage to the ground, 

And slew the youth and dame. 

Now woods have overgrown the mead, 

And hid the cliffs from sight. 70 

There shrieks the hovering hawk at noon, 
And prowls the fox at night. 



DORA. 

ALFRED TENNYSON. 

With farmer Allan at the farm, abode 

William and Dora. William was his son, 

And she his niece. He often looked at them, 

And often thought, " I'll make them man and wife." 

Now Dora felt her uncle's will in all, 

And yearned towards William ; but the youth, because 

He had always been with her in the house, 

Thought not of Dora. 

Then there came a day 
When Allan called his son, and said, " My son, 
I married late, but I would wish to see 
My grandchild on my knees before I die ; 
And I have set my heart upon a match. 
Now, therefore, look to Dora : she is well 
To look to ; thrifty, too, beyond her age. 
She is my brother's daughter : he and I 
Had once hard words, and parted, and he died 
In foreign lands ; but for his sake I bred 
His daughter Dora. Take her for your wife, 
For I have wished this marriage, night and day, 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 25 

For many years." But William answered short : 20 

" I cannot marry Dora ; by my life, 

I will not marry Dora ! " Then the old man 

Was wroth, and doubled up his hands, and said, 

" You will not, boy ! you dare to answer thus ! 

But in my time a father's word was law, 25 

And so it shall be now for me. Look to it. 

Consider, William : take a month to think, 

And let me have an answer to my wish, 

Or, by the Lord that made me, you shall pack, 

And never more darken my doors again." 30 

But William answered madly, bit his lips, 

And broke away. The more he looked at her, 

The less he liked her ; and his ways were harsh ; 

But Dora bore them meekly. Then, before 

The month was out, he left his father's house, 35 

And hired himself to work within the fields ; 

And half in love, half spite, he wooed and wed 

A laborer's daughter, Mary Morrison. 

Then, when the bells were ringing, Allan called 
His niece, and said, " My girl, I love you well ; 40 

But if you speak with him that was my son, 
Or change a word with her he calls his wife, 
My home is none of yours. My will is law." 
And Dora promised, being meek. She thought, 
" It cannot be ; my uncle's mind will change." 45 

And days went on, and there was born a boy 
To William ; then distresses came on him ; 
And day by day he passed his father's gate, 
Heart-broken, and his father helped him not. 
But Dora stored what little she could save, 5° 

And sent it them by stealth, nor did they know 
Who sent it : till at last a fever seized 
On William, and in harvest- time he died. 



26 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Then Dora went to Mary. Mary sat 
And looked with tears upon her boy, and thought 5 - 

Hard things of Dora. Dora came and said : 

" I have obeyed my uncle until now, 
And I have sinned, for it was all through me 
This evil came on William at the first. 
But, Mary, for the sake of him that's gone, 60 

And for your sake, the woman that he chose, 
And for this orphan, I am come to you. 
You know there has not been for these five years 
So full a harvest : let me take the boy, 
And I will set him in my uncle's eye 65 

Among the wheat ; that, when his heart is glad 
Of the full harvest, he may see the boy, 
And bless him for the sake of him that's gone." 

And Dora took the child, and went her way 
Across the wheat, and sat upon a mound 70 

That was unsown, where many poppies grew. 
Far off the farmer came into the field, 
And spied her not, for none of all his men 
Dare tell him Dora waited with the child ; 
And Dora would have risen and gone to him, 75 

But her heart failed her ; and the reapers reaped, 
And the sun fell, and all the land was dark. 

But when the morrow came, she rose and took 
The child once more, and sat upon the mound, 
And made a little wreath of all the flowers 80 

That grew about, and tied it round his hat 
To make him pleasing in her uncle's eye. 
Then, when the farmer passed into the field, 
He spied her, and he left his men at work, 
And came and said, " Where were you yesterday? 85 

Whose child is that? What are you doing here? " 
So Dora cast her eyes upon the ground, 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 2 J 

And answered softly, " This is William's child." 

"And did I not," said Allan, "did I not 

Forbid you, Dora?" Dora said again, 9 o 

" Do with me as you will, but take the child, 

And bless him for the sake of him that's gone." 

And Allan said, " I see it is a trick 

Got up betwixt you and the woman there. 

I must be taught my duty, and by you ! 95 

You knew my word was law, and yet you dared[ 

To slight it. Well — for I will take the boy ; 

But go you hence, and never see me more." 

So saying, he took the boy, that cried aloud 
And struggled hard. The wreath of flowers fell I00 

At Dora's feet. She bowed upon her hands, 
And the boy's cry came to her from the field, 
More and more distant. She bowed down her head, 
Remembering the day when first she came, 
And all the things that had been. She bowed down, 105 
And wept in secret ; and the reapers reaped, 
And the sun fell, and all the land was dark. 

Then Dora went to Mary's house, and stood 
Upon the threshold. Mary saw the boy 
Was not with Dora. She broke out in praise IIO 

To God, that helped her in her widowhood. 
And Dora said, " My uncle took the boy : 
But, Mary, let me live and work with you ; 
He says that he will never see me more." 
Then answered Mary, "This shall never be, u 5 

That thou shouldst take my trouble on thyself: 
And now, I think, he shall not have the boy, 
For he will teach him hardness, and to slight 
His mother ; therefore thou and I will go, 
And I will have my boy, and bring him home, J20 

And I will beg of him to take thee back ; 



2 5 



28 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

But if he will not take thee back again, 
Then thou and I will live within one house, 
And work for William's child, until he grows 
Of age to help us." 

So the women kissed 
Each other, and set out and reached the farm. 
The door was off the latch ; they peeped, and saw 
The boy set up betwixt his grandsire's knees, 
Who thrust him in the hollows of his arm, 
And clapt him on the hands and on the cheeks, 
Like one that loved him ; and the lad stretched out 
And babbled for the golden seal, that hung 
From Allan's watch, and sparkled by the fire. 
Then they came in ; but when the boy beheld 
His mother, he cried out to come to her : 
And Allan set him down, and Mary said, 
" O father ! — if you let me call you so — 
I never came a-begging for myself, 
Or William, or this child • but now I come 
For Dora. Take her back ; she loves you well. 

sir, when William died, he died at peace 
With all men : for I asked him, and he said 
He could not ever rue his marrying me — 

1 had been a patient wife ; but, sir, he said 

That he was wrong to cross his father thus. i 45 

' God bless him ! ' he said, ' and may he never know 
The troubles I have gone through ! ' Then he turned 
His face, and passed — unhappy that I am ! 
But now, sir, let me have my boy, for you 
Will make him hard, and he will learn to slight i 5 o 

His father's memory ; and take Dora back, 
And let all this be as it was before." 

So Mary said, and Dora hid her face 
By Mary. There was silence in the room ; 



140 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 29 

And all at once the old man burst in sobs : ^5 

" I have been to blame — to blame. I have killed my son. 
I have killed him — but I loved him — my dear son. 
May God forgive me ! I have been to blame. 
Kiss me, my children." 

Then they clung about 
The old man's neck, and kissed him many times. 160 

And all the man was broken with remorse, 
And all his love came back a hundred-fold ; 
And for three hours he sobbed o'er William's child, 
Thinking of William. 

So those four abode 
Within one house together ; and as years 165 

Went forward, Mary took another mate ; 
But Dora lived unmarried till her death. 



ADDITIONAL PIECES FOR STUDY. 

If the foregoing pieces, in the opinion of the teacher, 
are not considered suitable or sufficient, others may be 
readily selected from the more common books of compila- 
tions. As additional pieces, the author would suggest the 
following : — 

Longfellow's Victor Galbraith, Skeleton in Armor ; 
Whittier's Barbara Frietchie, In School Days, Wreck of 
Rivermouth, Nauhaught the Deacon ; Rogers's Ginevra ; 
Alice Cary's Picture-Book ; Celia Thaxter's Wreck of the 
Pocahontas. 



30 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE NORMAN BARON AS A MODEL. 

In the preceding guide analysis, four points, or helps to 
a better understanding of a simple English poem, have 
been explained, with " The Wreck of the Hesperus " as 
a model. Several poems by standard authors have been 
added, to be studied after the plan suggested. 

We are now prepared to go one step farther. We pre- 
sent below a guide analysis with four other points added 
(III., IV., V., VI.) and fully explained. 

Longfellow's " Norman Baron " is selected as a model 
to illustrate the suggestive points added to the analysis. 



GUIDE ANALYSIS : THE NORMAN BARON. 

I. Read the poem carefully and thoughtfully. 

II. Recite the story of the poem. 

III. Write a paraphrase of the piece. 

IV. Divide the piece into parts, or scenes : let them be 

fully realized, and described separately. 
V. Show the relation of the minor parts of the piece to 

the whole ; i.e., study the harmony of the whole. 
VI. Give due attention to subordinate matters which 

illustrate the piece. 
VII. The study of the text. 
VIII. The author of the poem: Henry W. Longfellow. 



NORMAN BARON AS A MODEL. 31 

THE NORMAN BARON. 

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 

In his chamber, weak and dying, 
Was the Norman baron lying ; 
Loud, without, the tempest thundered, 
And the castle-turret shook. 

In this fight was Death the gainer, 5 

Spite of vassal and retainer, 
And the lands his sires had plundered, 
Written in the Doomsday Book. 

By his bed a monk was seated, 

Who in humble voice repeated 10 

Many a prayer and paternoster, 
From the missal on his knee ; 

And, amid the tempest pealing, 
Sounds of bells came faintly stealing, — 
Bells, that from the neighboring kloster 15 

Rang for the Nativity. 

In the hall, the serf and vassal 

Held, that night, their Christmas wassail ; 

Many a carol, old and saintly, 

Sang the minstrels and the waits ; 2Q 

And so loud these Saxon gleemen 
Sang to slaves the songs of freemen, 
That the storm was heard but faintly, 
Knocking at the castle-gates. 



32 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Till at length the lays they chanted 25 

Reached the chamber terror-haunted, 
Where the monk, with accents holy, 
Whispered at the baron's ear. 

Tears upon his eyelids glistened, 

As he paused a while and listened, 3 o 

And the dying baron slowly 

Turned his weary head to hear. 

" Wassail for the kingly stranger 
Born and cradled in a manger ! 

King, like David ; priest, like Aaron • 35 

Christ is born to set us free ! " 

And the lightning showed the sainted 
Figures on the casement painted, 
And exclaimed the shuddering baron, 

" Miserere, Domine ! " 40 

In that hour of deep contrition 
He beheld, with clearer vision, 
Through all outward show and fashion, 
Justice, the Avenger, rise. 

All the pomp of earth had vanished, 45 

Falsehood and deceit were banished, 
Reason spake more loud than passion, 
And the truth wore no disguise. 



Every vassal of his banner, 
Every serf born to his manor, 
All those wronged and wretched creatures, 
By his hand were freed again. 



5° 



NORMAN BARON AS A MODEL. 33 

And, as on the sacred missal 
He recorded their dismissal, 

Death relaxed his iron features, 55 

And the monk replied, " Amen ! " 

Many centuries have been numbered 
Since in death the baron slumbered 
By the convent's sculptured portal, 

Mingling with the common dust : 60 

But the good deed, through the ages, 
Living in historic pages, 
Brighter grows and gleams immortal, 
Unconsumed by moth or rust. 



EXPLANATION OF THE GUIDE ANALYSIS. 

III. Write a Paraphrase of the Piece. — It is advisable at 
times to have a paraphrase, or free translation, of the piece 
selected for study. 

A paraphrase is an attempt to reproduce in other lan- 
guage the words of an author, or to change the language 
of one expression or collection of words, phrases, or sen- 
tences, into another, so as to retain and explain, in differ- 
ent words and forms, the ideas the original words express. 
A good paraphrase should bring out more clearly, if 
possible, the meaning of an author. Some hold that it 
ought to be not only a sort of explanatory translation 
of any selection of prose or poetry, but a commentary on 
the subject treated. To write a good paraphrase, there- 
fore, implies a thorough knowledge of the meaning of the 
author. 



34 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

First, the paraphrase should be written with great care, 
with the text at hand, changing the phraseology and 
wording to a considerable extent. 

Again, the piece, if short and simple, should be freely- 
translated from memory. These translations are admira- 
bly adapted to enrich the vocabulary, to afford facility in 
the use of the best language, and to impress the choice 
wording of the author upon the memory. 

Extreme brevity need not be required, so long as the 
whole thought, both of the passage as a whole, and of 
individual words, is produced. 

Note. — The following rules will be found helpful in paraphras- 
ing:— 

i. Read over carefully the passage to be paraphrased, until the 
exact meaning is fully understood. 

2. Be careful to make the paraphrase express exactly the meaning 
of the original passage. 

3. Neither expand nor contract the passages unnecessarily. 

4. Use the words of the original passage only wljen no exact 
equivalents can be found. 

5. Use simple language. Explain obscure expressions. The 
words may be changed. The order of the words may be changed. 
The structure of the sentence may be changed. Figurative language 
may be changed into plain language. 

IV. Bring oiit the general meaning of the poem by divid- 
ing it into paj'ts or scenes. Let these scenes be j idly realized, 
and described separately. — To what extent this part of the 
study shall be carried, must obviously depend upon the age 
and capabilities of the class. Three or four simple nar- 
rative pieces should be studied, solely with reference to 
this point, in order that the pupil may understand how 
to prepare himself for subsequent recitations. 



NORMAN BARON AS A MODEL. 35 

In "The Norman Baron" we have presented the fol- 
lowing scenes : — 

I. The Norman baron dying in his castle-chamber during a fearful 
tempest. The monk repeating his prayers from the missal. 

II. The pealing of the Christmas bells is heard from the cloister 
near by. From the halls below come up the sounds of revelry and 
the songs of the old and saintly carols sung by the Saxon gleemen. 

III. They reach the ear of the dying baron; he turns his weary 
head to listen ; tears fall ; " Christ is born to set us free ; " the 
lightning lights up the stained figures on the casement. The dying 
call for pity; his hour of deep contrition. 

IV. He frees every serf and vassal ; and, as he records it on the 
missal, death relaxes his iron features. Centuries have passed, but 
the good deed " brighter grows and gleams immortal." 

Let these scenes be described in full, and let each be 
made a realistic picture. It is well to draw to a consider- 
able extent on the imagination to present a vivid picture, 
filling in all the details from the brief outline of the 
author. 

V. When the general meaning of every thing, even where 
it is obvious, has been explained, the relation of these scenes 
to the whole should be understood. In other words, show 
how the parts or pictures of the poem harmonize with the 
general idea ; i.e., study the unity of the piece. 

In a well-furnished apartment, every thing is supposed 
to be in perfect harmony, even to the tint of the paper, 
the shading of the carpet, and dimensions of the various 
articles of furniture. The parts of a costly building are 
supposed to harmonize perfectly, in order to make up the 
general effect. So it is in every artistic work in literature : 
all the parts tend and converge toward one main idea, to 
which every part is subordinate. 



36 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

What is this one main idea in "The Norman Baron" ? 
As we have seen, we have presented several vivid pictures. 
Do they harmonize ? Do they serve to bring into full 
relief the main idea ? Do all these minor parts blend so 
as to heighten the effect of the central picture ? Does 
the tempest add to the general effect ? do the old and 
saintly Christmas carols ? Is it in harmony with truth, 
that these carols should have made such a deep impres- 
sion on this stern baron ? 

VI. Attention should now be given to subordinate matters 
which illustrate the poem, — to allusions, suggestions, man- 
ners, customs, historical references, and the like. 

What age does " The Norman Baron " reflect ? What 
religious forms, rites, and superstitions are illustrated ? 
What portion of English history is represented ? (Even 
in this short poem we can draw to a considerable extent 
upon our knowledge of history.) Who were the Normans ? 
When and where did they live ? How did the nobles and 
common people live in those olden times ? How did they 
eat, drink, and sleep ? Again, we have presented for our 
study, the monk repeating his prayers from the missal ; 
the cloister bells ; the songs of the Saxon gleemen ; Saxon 
custom of celebrating Christmas ; the matter of holding 
serfs, and the right to free them. 

TO THE TEACHER. — There is always danger lest some of the preceding points may be 
pushed too far by the anxious teacher, and cause listlessness and weariness. With all classes 
of pupils alike, the main thing to be aimed at by the teacher should be to lead them to under- 
stand clearly and fully the meaning of the author they are reading, and to appreciate the 
beauty, the nobleness, the justness, or the sublimity of his thoughts and language. The deri- 
vation of words, the explanation of allusions, the scansion of verse, the pointing-out of figures 
of speech, the hundred and one minor matters on which the teacher may easily dissipate the 
attention of the pupil, should be strictly subordinated to this great aim. 

VII. The Study of the Text. — As we gradually pass on 
from the simplest pieces to those more difficult, the student 



NORMAN BARON AS A MODEL. 37 

should prepare himself to answer more difficult questions. 
Several recitations should now be devoted solely to a drill 
on the proper questions to be asked by the teacher, and 
to be anticipated by the pupil in his preparation for the 
daily recitation. To this end, the following sets of ques- 
tions may be suggestive. 



EXERCISES. 
QUESTIONS ON THE NORMAN BARON. 

What is the title of this poem? Tell me what you know about the 
Normans. What was a baron? Meaning of tet?ipest? Why the word 
thundered? What is a castle-turret? Describe, in a general way, a Norman 
castle. "In this fight:" why this? Why is Death used with a capital? 
What is meant by " spite of vassal and retainer," etc. ? Why does the poet 
speak of the lands written in the Doomsday Book ? What was this Dooms- 
day Book? Tell me all you know about the monks. What was this missal? 
What is meant here by prayer? paternoster? In humble voice, — meaning of 
the phrase in this connection? In the fourth stanza, what is the subject? 
verb? their modifiers? Faintly stealing; explain the meaning. Bells; 
why repeated? What is meant by kloster ? Why not cloister? What is 
referred to by Nativity ? What was the ancient custom at Christmas-time 
in England ? Has it been continued ? Explain serf and vassal. Meaning 
of wassail? What special freedom was allowed the serfs and vassals at this 
time ? What similar custom formerly existed in the South ? What is a 
carol? Why "old and saintly"? Who were the minstrels and the waits? 
Saxon gleemen ? Meaning of slaves in this connection ? When the poet 
speaks of the storm knocking at the castle-gates, what does he mean ? Force 
of terror-haunted? "accents holy' 1 ''? Why should these chanted lays have 
brought tears to the eyes of this rude Norman lord ? In the quoted extract, 
who is referred to by the " kingly stranger " ? Force of xvassail ? Explain 
the third verse of this stanza. In the tenth stanza, what is the subject? 
verb? the object? Explain its meaning. What olden custom is referred 
to by these two verses ? Force of shuddering? Render the Latin "Miserere, 
Domine." Why did the baron repeat these two words ? Translate the 
eleventh and twelfth stanzas into your own words, explaining them fully at 



38 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

the same time. Are these lines of universal application to those who have 
wronged their fellow-men ? What was the practical result of this deep 
contrition ? Do you know whether the baron could legally do this, or is it 
merely a poetical license ? Why is he represented as recording their dis- 
missal on the missal? What is the moral of this beautiful poem? What 
practical lesson can we learn from it ? 



QUESTIONS ON THE FIRST STANZA OF GRAY'S ELEGY. 

" The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me." 

In General. — About what time was the "Elegy" begun, and when fin- 
ished? Were some stanzas suppressed by the author ? how many? Where 
was this churchyard located? any dispute about this point? Did the poem 
become popular at once? has it so remained? What is the best proof you 
can give of its popularity? Is the original MS. in existence ? At what price 
has it recently been sold? How many of the phrases and lines of the poem 
have become household words? What would you call the most familiar 
quotation ? What is the leading thought or idea running through the whole ? 
Did Gray really ever take twilight walks in a churchyard? The last three 
stanzas are called the epitaph : did the writers of this time devote much 
labor to elaborate epitaphs ? 

The Text. — Curfeiv: derivation of the word? history of the word? 
What various explanations of this word ? What was the curfew bell ? Has 
this custom been continued in England? Have we a similar custom in our 
country? A famous author has criticised these lines, by saying that the 
herds and ploughmen must have been several hours behind their usual time 
for coming home, if the curfew was ringing: what reply do you make to this 
criticism ? Tolls ; what is the meaning here ? force of this particular word ? 
Why not use rings instead of tolls ? What is the effect of specific words, 
so common in great writers ? Illustrate this by some familiar quotation. 
Meaning of knell? why this specific word? The verse as a whole: explain 
its meaning. Force of lowing? Is herd singular or plural ? But the word 
•wind is written both with and without the.?; which is correct? How did 
Gray write it ? Why the specific word wind? Why slowly ? (9Vr is poeti- 
cal for what ? why contracted, and by what authority ? Lea, used in poetry, 
prose, or both ? give synonyme. Why is ploughman used ? what synonyme 



NORMAN BARON AS A MODEL. 39 

can you suggest ? Force of ploughs ? suggest a synonyme. This verse is 
remarkable for the number of transpositions which it will allow, and still 
keep the idea; will you give orally all you can? Subject of leaves? Mean- 
ing of -world ? what figure used? Does the author refer to himself, by me? 



Exercise. — Thomas Gray wrote the "Elegy in a Country Churchyard." 
Give orally a few points about his life. 

For the complete text of the " Elegy," and a life of Gray, see chap. xii. 



QUESTIONS ON TEN LINES IN GOLDSMITH'S DESERTED VILLAGE. 

" Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, 
And still where many a garden flower grows wild, 
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, 
The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 
A man he was to all the country dear, 
And passing rich with forty pounds a year. 
Remote from towns he ran his goodly race, 
Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place ; 
Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power 
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour." 

Lines 137-146. 

What general description do we have in these verses ? Judging from the 
author's life, would you think him capable of giving so finished a picture 
of a country clergyman? What facts of his early life will give an expla- 
nation ? What persons did Goldsmith probably have in mind ? Why do 
you think so? What incident of his travels in France will illustrate this 
point ? In all his reckless and dissipated career, did he ever retain great 
respect for his early teachings ? For what relative did Goldsmith ever 
cherish the utmost reverence ? What references have we to him in his writ- 
ings ? Illustrate the point by selections from " Citizen of the World." 

Why did Goldsmith write this passage at the particular time he did? 
Does it bear evidence of personal grief? Will you read, or give in sub- 
stance, Irving's allusion to this passage ? also first part of the dedication of 
the "Traveller"? From line 137 what ruin is referred to? What does 
yonder mean? Is it common in standard authors? What is its use in 
Western idiom? Meaning of copse, smiled? Explain figure of rhetoric. 



40 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Explain line 138. Does this really happen when an estate has gone to ruin? 
Why is there used in line 139? Why torn shrubs? Why specify the word 
shrub rather than tree, bush, etc. ? Force of disclose? What is the subject 
of the lines? verb? Show how .the subject and verb are modified. Why 
village preacher? Why speak of one preacher? Would this apply to the 
villages in this country? Why true even in the large English villages? 
Give synonymes of the word preacher, and explain the use of each. When 
the English clergy is referred to in older English authors, what sect is 
meant ? What difference in the rank, position, and work of an English and 
an American clergyman? Mansion, give synonyme, sense in this passage. 
Dispose of lines 141 and 142. Explain them in your own words. What does 
passing mean? Give synonyme. Is it used as in the text at the present day? 
What salary did the preacher receive ? How much money would it be worth 
to-day? What can you say about the pay of clergymen then and now? Is 
this line often quoted? When would you appropriately quote it? Explain 
the figure in line 143. Give a similar figure from Hebrews. What is the 
sense of the figure as used by Paul ? Has this figure become grafted into 
the popular speech ? Explain lines 143 and 144. What word was used in 
place of unpractised (145) in the "first edition"? Explain the word fawn. 
Explain line 146 in full ; fashioned and hour, explain and illustrate the 
figures. 

Exercise. — Oliver Goldsmith wrote "The Deserted Village." Give 
orally a few facts about his life and times. (See chap, x.) 



EXERCISES. 

With the guide analysis of "The Norman Baron'' for a 
model, return to the texts of the following poems : — 

Longfellow's Wreck of the Hesperus, p. 8; Southey's Inchcape Rock, 
p. 16; Wordsworth's We are Seven, p. 19; Bryant's White-footed Deer, 
p. 21 ; Tennyson's Dora, p. 24. 

Four of the points in the analysis (p. 12) (I., II., VII., 
VIII.) have already been studied. Return now to these 
five poems, and study each with reference to the other four 
points (p. 33) (III., ' IV., V., VI.). In brief, study these 
five poems as " The Norman Baron " has just been studied. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 41 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 



The following poems are now to be studied after the 
plan suggested in our study of "The Norman Baron." 
In this chapter we have taken another very important 
step in advance. The utmost pains should be taken with 
each and every detail of study suggested. Attention to 
details is necessary to the mastery of even a simple 
English poem. 

ROSABELLE. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

O listen, listen, ladies gay ! 

No haughty feat of arms I tell ; 
Soft is the note, and sad the lay, 

That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. 

" Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew ! 5 

And, gentle lady, deign to stay ! 
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, 

Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. 

" The blackening wave is edged with white ; 

To inch and rock the sea-mews fly ; IO 

The fishers have heard the water-sprite, 

Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh. 

" Last night the gifted seer did view 
A wet shroud swathed round lady gay ; 

Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch : I5 

Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?" 



42 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

" 'Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir 

To-night at Roslin leads the ball, 
But that my lady-mother there 

Sits lonely in her castle-hall. 20 

" 'Tis not because the ring they ride, 
And Lindesay at the ring rides well, 

But that my sire the wine will chide, 
If 'tis not filled by Rosabelle." 

O'er Roslin all that dreary night 25 

A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ; 

'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light, 
And redder than the bright moonbeam. 

It glared on Roslin's castled rock, 

It ruddied all the copse-wood glen ; 3 o 

'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, 

And seen from caverned Hawthornden. 

Seemed all on fire that chapel proud, 
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffiued lie ; 

Each baron, for a sable shroud, 35 

Sheathed in his iron panoply. 

Seemed all on fire, within, around, 

Deep sacristy and altar's pale : 
Shone every pillar foliage-bound, 

And glimmered all the dead men's mail. 4 o 

Blazed battlement and pinnet high, 

Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair, — 

So still they blaze, when fate is nigh 
The lordly line of high Saint Clair. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 43 

There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold 45 

Lie buried within that proud chapelle : 
Each one the holy vault doth hold, — 

But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle ! 

And each Saint Clair was buried there, 

With candle, with book, and with knell ; 50 

But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung 

The dirge of lovely Rosabelle. 



LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. 

THOMAS CAMPBELL. 

A chieftain, to the Highlands bound, 
Cries, " Boatman, do not tarry ! 

And I'll give thee a silver pound, 
To row us o'er the ferry." 

" Now, who be ye would cross Lochgyle, 
This dark and stormy water? " 

" O I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, 
And this Lord Ullin's daughter. 

" And fast before her father's men 
Three days we've fled together, 

For should he find us in the glen, 
My blood would stain the heather. 

" His horsemen hard behind us ride ; 

Should they our steps discover, 
Then who will cheer my bonny bride 

When they have slain her lover? " 



44 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, 
" I'll go, my chief, — I'm ready : 

It is not for your silver bright, 
But for your winsome lady : 

" And, by my word ! the bonny bird 

In danger shall not tarry ; 
So, though the waves are raging white, 

I'll row you o'er the ferry." 

By this the storm grew loud apace, 
The water- wraith was shrieking ; 

And in the scowl of heaven each face 
Grew dark as they were speaking. 

But still as wilder blew the wind, 
And as the night grew drearer, 

Adown the glen rode armed men, 
Their trampling sounded nearer. 

"O haste thee, haste ! " the lady cries, 
" Though tempests round us gather ; 

I'll meet the raging of the skies, 
But not an angry father." 

The boat has left a stormy land, 
A stormy sea before her, — 

When, oh ! too strong for human hand, 
The tempest gathered o'er her. 

And still they rowed amidst the roar 

Of waters fast prevailing. 
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore, 

His wrath was changed to wailing ; 



3° 



4° 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 45 

For sore dismayed, through storm and shade, 45 

His child he did discover : 
One lovely hand she stretched for aid, 

And one was round her lover. 

" Come back ! come back ! " he cried in grief, 

" Across this stormy water : 5 o 

And I'll forgive your Highland chief, 
My daughter ! — O my daughter ! " 

Twas vain ; the loud waves lashed the shore, 

Return or aid preventing : 
The waters wild went o'er his child, — 55 

And he was left lamenting. 



THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. 

ROBERT SOUTHEY. 

It was a summer evening, 

Old Kaspar's work was done ; 

And he before his cottage-door 
Was sitting in the sun, 

And by him sported on the green 

His little grandchild Wilhelmine. 

She saw her brother Peterkin 
Roll something large and round, 

That he beside the rivulet, 
In playing there, had found ; 

He came to ask what he had found, 

That was so large and smooth and round. 



46 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Old Kaspar took it from the boy, 

Who stood expectant by ; 
And then the old man shook his head, i 5 

And with a natural sigh, 
" Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, 

" Who fell in the great victory. 

" I find them in the garden, 

For there's many hereabout, 20 

And often when I go to plough, 

The ploughshare turns them out ; 
For many thousand men," said he, 
" Were slain in the great victory." 

" Now tell us what 'twas all about," 25 

Young Peterkin he cries, 
And little Wilhelmine looks up 

With wonder-waiting eyes ; 
" Now tell us all about the war, 
And what they killed each other for." 30 

" It was the English," Kaspar cried, 

" That put the French to rout ; 
But what they killed each other for, 

I could not well make out. 
But everybody said," quoth he, 35 

" That 'twas a famous victory. 

" My father lived at Blenheim then, 

Yon little stream hard by : 
They burnt his dwelling to the ground, 

And he was forced to fly ; 40 

So with his wife and child he fled, 
Nor had he where to rest his head. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 47 

" With fire and sword the country round 

Was wasted far and wide, 
And many a childing mother then, 45 

And new-born infant, died. 
But things like that, you know, must be, 
At every famous victory. 

" They say it was a shocking sight, 

After the field was won, 50 

For many thousand bodies here 

Lay rotting in the sun ; 
But things like that, you know, must be, 
After a famous victory. 

" Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, 55 

And our good Prince Eugene." 
" Why, 'twas a very wicked thing ! " 

Said little Wilhelmine. 
" Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, 
" It was a famous victory. 60 

" And everybody praised the Duke, 

Who such a fight did win." 
u But what good came of it, at last? " 

Quoth little Peterkin. 
" Why, that I cannot tell," said he, 65 

" But 'twas a famous victory." 



THE GIFT OF TRITEMIUS. 

JOHN G. WHITTIER. 

Tritemius of Herbipolis, one day, 
W T hile kneeling at the altar's foot to pray, 
Alone with God, as was his pious choice, 
Heard from without a miserable voice, 



48 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

A sound which seemed of all sad things to tell, 5 

As of a lost soul crying out of hell. 

Thereat the Abbot paused, the chain whereby 

His thoughts went upward broken by that cry ; 

And, looking from the casement, saw below 

A wretched woman, with gray hair a-flow, I0 

And withered hands held up to him, who cried 

For alms as one who might not be denied. 

She cried, " For the dear love of Him who gave 

His life for ours, my child from bondage save, — 

My beautiful, brave first-born, chained with slaves 15 

In the Moor's galley, where the sun-smit waves 

Lap the white walls of Tunis ! " — " What I can 

I give," Tritemius said, " my prayers." — "O man 

Of God ! " she cried, for grief had made her bold, 

" Mock me not thus ; I ask not prayers, but gold. 20 

Words will not serve me, alms alone suffice ; 

Even while I speak perchance my first-born dies." 

" Woman ! " Tritemius answered, " from our door 

None go unfed ; hence are we always poor : 

A single soldo is our only store. 25 

Thou hast our prayers, — what can we give thee more ? " 

" Give me," she said, " the silver candlesticks 

On either side of the great crucifix. 

God well may spare them on his errands sped, 

Or he can give you golden ones instead." 30 

Then spake Tritemius, " Even as thy word, 

Woman, so be it ! (Our most gracious Lord, 

Who loveth mercy more than sacrifice, 

Pardon me if a human soul I prize 

Above the gifts upon his altar piled !) 35 

Take what thou askest, and redeem thy child." 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 49 

But his hand trembled as the holy alms 

He placed within the beggar's eager palms ; 

And as she vanished down the linden shade, 

He bowed his head, and for forgiveness prayed. 4 o 

So the day passed, and when the twilight came 
He woke to find the chapel all aflame, 
And, dumb with grateful wonder, to behold 
Upon the altar candlesticks of gold ! 



LADY CLARE. 

ALFRED TENNYSON. 

It was the time when lilies blow, 
And clouds are highest up in air, 

Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe 
To give his cousin, Lady Clare. 

I trow they did not part in scorn : 
Lovers long-betrothed were they ; 

They two will wed the morrow morn, — 
God's blessing on the day ! 

" He does not love me for my birth, 
Nor for my lands so broad and fair : 

He loves me for my own true worth, 
And that is well," said Lady Clare. 

In there came old Alice the nurse, 

Said, " Who was this that went from thee?" 
" It was my cousin," said Lady Clare : 

"To-morrow he weds with me." 



50 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

" O God be thanked ! " said Alice the nurse, 
"That all comes round so just and fair : 

Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands, 

And you are not the Lady Clare." zo 

"Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse? " 
Said Lady Clare, "that ye speak so wild? " 

"As God's above," said Alice the nurse, 
" I speak the truth : you are my child. 

"The old Earl's daughter died at my breast, — 25 

I speak the truth, as I live by bread ! 
I buried her like my own sweet child. 

And put my child in her stead." 

" Falsely, falsely have ye done, 

O mother," she said, " if this be true, 30 

To keep the best man under the sun 

So many years from his due." 

" Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 

" But keep the secret for your life ; 
And all you have will be Lord Ronald's, 35 

When you are man and wife." 

" If I'm a beggar born," she said, 

" I will speak out, for I dare not lie. 
Pull off, pull off the brooch of gold, 

And fling the diamond necklace by." 40 

" Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 

" But keep the secret all ye can." 
She said, " Not so ; but I will know 

If there be any faith in man." 



SELECTIONS EOR STUDY. 51 

" Nay now, what faith? " said Alice the nurse : 45 

"The man will cleave unto his right." 
"And he shall have it," the lady replied, 

"Though I should die to-night." 

" Yet give one kiss to your mother dear ; 

Alas, my child ! I sinned for thee." r 

" O mother, mother, mother ! " she said, 

" So strange it seems to me ! 

" Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear, 

My mother dear, if this be so ; 
And lay your hand upon my head, 55 

And bless me, mother, ere I go." 

She clad herself in a russet gown, — 

She was no longer Lady Clare ; 
She went by dale, and she went by down, 

With a single rose in her hair. 60 

The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought 

Leapt up from where she lay, 
Dropt her head in the maiden's hand, 

And followed her all the way. 

Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower. 65 

" O Lady Clare, you shame your worth ! 
Why come you drest like a village maid, 

That are the flower of the earth? " 

" If I come drest like a village maid, 

I am but as my fortunes are : 7 o 

I am a beggar born," she said, 

" And not the Lady Clare." 



52 FIRST STEPS I A 7 ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

" Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, . 

" For I am yours in word and in deed ; 
Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, 75 

" Your riddle is hard to read." 

O and proudly stood she up ! 

Her heart within her did not fail ; 
She looked into Lord Ronald's eyes, 

And told him all her nurse's tale. 80 

He laughed a laugh of merry scorn ; 

He turned and kissed her where she stood. 
" If you are not the heiress born, 

And I," said he, "the next in blood, — 

" If you are not the heiress born, 85 

And I," said he, " the lawful heir, 
We two will wed to-morrow morn, 

And you shall still be Lady Clare." 



SOME QUESTIONS ON LADY CLARE. 

When was this poem written ? and by whom ? In what metre is it writ- 
ten ? Is the metre appropriate for the poem? and why? Mention other 
poems by Tennyson written in the same metre. Mention other standard 
poems in the same metre. Who was this Lady Clare ? What was her social 
rank ? At what time of the year does the poem open ? What is meant by 
" the time when lilies blow " ? " clouds are highest in the air"? What is a 
doe? Why was it an appropriate present? Meaning of trow? In the 
second stanza, what is the relation of the second verse to the first? What 
reason had Lady Clare for speaking of her lover as she does in the third 
stanza? What does the nurse mean by saying that "all comes round so 
just and fair "? Had Lady Clare good reason for thinking that her nurse 
was out of her head? Give the nurse's story in your own words. What 
was Lady Clare's feeling towards her nurse after this revelation ? What did 



SELECTIOXS FOR STUDY. 53 

the nurse counsel Lady Clare to do? What was the reply? Did the fair 
lady forgive her nurse? What then did Lady Clare do? How did she 
prepare herself to meet Lord Ronald? What act of the "lily-white doe " 
adds pathos to the picture? How did Lord Ronald receive her? Why 
did Lord Ronald speak of "tricks" and "riddle hard to read"? Describe 
in some detail how Lady Clare told Lord Ronald "all her nurse's tale." 
How did Lord Ronald receive his lady-love's story? his reply? Why should 
the nurse have kept the secret so long, and then have revealed it on the 
day before the wedding ? Did Lady Clare act the noble part in thus telling 
the story to her lover? Why not have kept the secret? Can you draw any 
moral from this little poem ? 



ADDITIONAL PIECES FOR STUDY. 

Longfellow's Paul Revere's Ride, Old Clock on the 
Stairs ; Lowell's Ambrose ; Whittier's Mary Garvin ; 
Bayard Taylor's Napoleon at Gotha ; Holmes's Deacon's 
Masterpiece ; Byron's Destruction of Sennacherib ; Bret 
Harte's John Burns at Gettysburg ; Southey's Bishop 
Bruno, Well of St. Keyne, God's Judgment on Hatto ; 
Aytoun's Execution of Montrose. 



54 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE LOED OF BURLEIGH AS A MODEL. 

We present in this chapter a complete guide analysis, 
with Tennyson's " The Lord of Burleigh " as a model. 
Ten points are given as helps to a better understanding 
of the poem. The exercise in criticism is somewhat diffi- 
cult ; after some practice, however, it will become a source 
of interest and profit to the pupil. 

It is not to be supposed that this, or any other form of 
an analysis, can be used with every poem. With many 
pieces, fully one-half of the points may be omitted. How 
many are made use of, and to what extent any one that is 
made use of is carried, must depend upon circumstances. 



GUIDE ANALYSIS: THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. 

I. Read the poem carefully and thoughtfully. 

II. Recite the story of the poem. 

III. Write a paraphrase of the poem. 

IV. Divide the poem into parts, or scents. 
V. Unity of the parts. 

VI. Minor details which illustrate the poem. 

VII. The study of the text. 

VIII. An exercise in criticism. 

IX. Memory quotations. 

X. The author of the poem: Alfred Tennyson. 



THE LORD OF BURLEIGH AS A MODEL. 55 

THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. 

ALFRED TENNYSON. 

In her ear he whispers gayly, 

" If my heart by signs can tell, 
Maiden, I have watched thee daily, 

And I think thou lov'st me well." 
She replies, in accents fainter, 5 

" There is none I love like thee." 
He is but a landscape-painter, 

And a village maiden she. 
He to lips, that fondly falter, 

Presses his without reproof: IO 

Leads her to the village altar, 

And they leave her father's roof. 
" I can make no marriage present ; 

Little can I give my wife. 
Love will make our cottage pleasant, *5 

And I love thee more than life." 
They by parks and lodges going 

See the lordly castles stand ; 
Summer woods, about them blowing, 

Made a murmur in the land. 20 

From deep thought himself he rouses, 

Says to her that loves him well, 
" Let us see these handsome houses 

Where the wealthy nobles dwell." 
So she goes by him attended, 2 5 

Hears him lovingly converse, 
Sees whatever fair and splendid 

Lay betwixt his home and hers ; 
Parks with oak and chestnut shady, 

Parks and ordered gardens great, 3° 

Ancient homes, of lord and lady, 

Built for pleasure and for state. 



56 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

All he shows her makes him dearer : 

Evermore she seems to gaze 
On that cottage growing nearer, 35 

Where they twain will spend their days. 
O but she will love him truly ! 

He shall have a cheerful home ; 
She will order all things duly, 

When beneath his roof they come. 4° 

Thus her heart rejoices greatly, 

Till a gateway she discerns 
With armorial bearings stately, 

And beneath the gate she turns ; 
Sees a mansion more majestic 45 

Than all those she saw before : 
Many a gallant gay domestic 

Bows before him at the door. 
And they speak in gentle murmur, 

When they answer to his call, 5° 

While he treads with footstep firmer, 

Leading on from hall to hall. 
And, while now she wonders blindly, 

Nor the meaning can divine, 
Proudly turns he round and kindly, — 55 

"All of this is mine and thine." 
Here he lives in state and bounty, 

Lord of Burleigh, fair and free ; 
Not a lord in all the county 

Is so great a lord as he. 6o 

All at once the color flushes 

Her sweet face from brow to chin : 
As it were with shame she blushes, 

And her spirit changed within. 
Then her countenance all over 6 5 

Pale again as death did prove ; 



THE LORD OF BURLEIGH AS A MODEL. 57 

But he clasped her like a lover, 

And he cheered her soul with love. 
So she strove against her weakness, 

Though at times her spirits sank : 7° 

Shaped her heart with woman's meekness 

To all duties of her rank : 
And a gentle consort made he, 

And her gentle mind was such 
That she grew a noble lady, 75 

And the people loved her much. 
But a trouble weighed upon her, 

And perplexed her, night and morn, 
With the burden of an honor 

Unto which she was not born. 8o 

Faint she grew, and ever fainter, 

As she murmured, " O that he 
Were once more that landscape-painter, 

Which did win my heart from me ! " 
So she drooped and drooped before him, 85 

Fading slowly from his side. 
Three fair children first she bore him, 

Then before her time she died. 
Weeping, weeping late and early, 

Walking up and pacing down, 
Deeply mourned the Lord of Burleigh, 

Burleigh-house by Stamford-town. 
And he came to look upon her, 

And he looked at her, and said, 
" Bring the dress, and put it on her, 95 

That she wore when she was wed." 
Then her people, softly treading, 

Bore to earth her body, drest 
In the dress that she was wed in, 

That her spirit might have rest. 100 



58 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



EXPLANATION OP THE GUIDE ANALYSIS. 

VIII. An Exercise in Criticism. — Some attempt at criti- 
cism should be made after a selection has been thoroughly 
studied. The object of such an exercise is not simply 
to find fault, or to condemn, but to train the student to 
express his own opinions upon certain prominent char- 
acteristics of the selection under consideration. 

It is not to be expected that there should be any learned 
or critical discussion of aesthetic points ; but it is to be 
hoped that both teacher and pupil, by familiar talks, may 
form a critical estimate, of more or less value, upon the 
merits or demerits of ordinary selections from the best 
English prose and poetry. 

For instance, pupils may be required to state in their 
own language what they consider the author's conception 
of a particular character to be, or his views on some 
important point. They may be required to state the 
impressions produced on them by reading the work, what 
they think its leading features are, or what they imagine 
to be the object which its author had in view in writing it. 
If there be a plot, its probability may be discussed. If 
the subject of the work be one which has been treated 
by other writers, the attention of the class should be 
directed to differences of treatment, and parallel passages 
should be cited. Numerous topics of a similar character 
will be suggested by every standard selection ; and the 
discussion of some of them, both orally and by written 
exercises, will form the best preparation for an attempt 
at a critical estimate of it. 

IX. Memory Quotations. — -A few lines from each piece 



THE LORD OF BURLEIGH AS A MODEL. 59 

should be thoroughly committed to memory. Committing 
choice passages to memory is like sowing good seed in 
the ground, which brings forth, in after-years, a harvest 
both good and plenteous. It requires some little practice 
for the pupil to select the most suitable lines to commit. 
Explanation of the passages, both historical, literary, and 
otherwise, may be made as circumstances demand. At- 
tention should also be paid to a correct and intelligent 
recitation of every selection. 

Each memory quotation should be carefully copied into 
a note-book used for this purpose, numbered, with the 
name of author, date of committing, etc. A complete 
record, ready for use in review and other exercises, is thus 
kept. These quotations should be frequently reviewed ; 
and occasionally an entire lesson should be devoted solely 
to reciting aloud, with full explanations and comments, 
the lines committed during the work of a preceding 
month or term. 

After a little help from the teacher, the number of lines 
to be committed, and even the choice of quotations, may 
be wisely left to the good sense of the student. A few 
moments devoted, during every recitation, to this exercise, 
is better than taxing the memory with long quotations 
recited only occasionally. 

With advanced classes, some attempt should be made 
to note similar or parallel extracts from other authors. 
For instance, the germ of thought in Young's familiar 
line, — 

"And men talk only to conceal the mind," — 

is found in Jeremy Taylor, Butler's " Hudibras," Robert 
South, and Oliver Goldsmith. Again, familiar moral and 



60 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

religious selections from Shakspeare, with parallel pas- 
sages from the Bible, are readily found, especially with 
the help of several works compiled for this purpose. 

Even as a few courteous words may serve to introduce 
us to some person whose subsequent friendship and inti- 
mate companionship may prove a lifelong blessing, so 
may the best thoughts of the best authors be the means 
of introducing us to the greatest names in our literature. 
Nay, more : from such humble beginnings may result a 
deep love for all that is good and true in books, and a sin- 
cere and ardent desire to read again and again the glowing 
pages of standard authors, as the school-years glide away, 
and the cares and responsibilities of after-life are taken 
up. 

Note. — "Poems and noble extracts, whether of verse or prose, 
once reduced into possession and rendered truly our own, may be to 
us a daily pleasure, — better far than a whole library unused. They 
come to us in our dull moments, to refresh us as with spring flowers ; 
in our selfish musings, to win us by pure delight from the tyranny 
of foolish castle-building, self-congratulations, and mean anxieties. 
They may be with us in the workshop, in the crowded streets, by the 
fireside ; sometimes, perhaps, on pleasant hillsides, or by sounding 
shores. Noble friends and companions, — our own ! never intru- 
sive, ever at hand, coming at our call ! Shakspeare, Milton, Words- 
worth, Tennyson, — the words of such men do not stale upon us, they 
do not grow old or cold." 

X. The Author of the Piece. — The time given to this 
topic should depend upon the age and capabilities of the 
student, and the means at hand for obtaining the neces- 
sary information. If, in addition to the texts, a manual 
or history of English literature is used, it is advisable to 
devote one or more recitations to a study of the life and 



THE LORD OF BURLEIGH AS A MODEL. 6\ 

times of each standard author. The biography, after 
being prepared, may be recited both orally and in the 
form of an essay. 

Half a dozen or more different manuals may be some- 
times used. In this case, the leading facts concerning 
the several authors may be uniformly studied and recited 
by the aid of an "outline of life." This, prepared before- 
hand by the teacher, is dictated to the class, or written 
on the blackboard. The teacher is enabled to fill in the 
necessary details by familiar talks. The student is ex- 
pected to take notes, which may be afterwards revised 
and copied into the note-book. 1 

What shall be required, and what omitted, will depend 
upon the good sense and judgment of the pupil. Try to 
fix a few important points in English literary history, and 
to accumulate definite and trustworthy information about 
a few classic authors. 

EXAMPLE. 

Outline of Life: Robert Burns, 1759-96. — When 
and where born ; early education ; farming, and his love 
of nature ; writing poetry while at work on the farm ; his 
early loves ; his first volume published ; proposes to leave 
Scotland ; dissuaded from the attempt ; departure for Edin- 
burgh in 1786; success and popularity; subsequent career; 

1 " In studying the life and times of each author, the student should look up 
information everywhere ; scraps from novels, like Scott's, from reviews and maga- 
zines, are not to be despised. The habit of investigating, and writing out results, 
makes the full man and the exact man at once ; it divests composition of ninety-nine 
parts of its horrors, and it quickens thought ninety-nine times as much as beating 
the brain for original brilliancies. If, however, books are not to be had, the teacher 
should give the needed facts and thoughts in a lecture ; and the student should take 
notes, and re-write." — Franxis A. March. 



62 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

death ; personal appearance ; his private character ; popu- 
larity as a man and a poet ; the secret of his greatness as 
a poet ; anecdotes. 

EXERCISE. 

With the preceding " Outline of Life " for a guide, 
prepare both an oral and a written biographical sketch of 
Robert Burns (see chap. xiv.). Test the work by answer- 
ing the following questions : — 

When and where was Burns born ? What celebrated work by Dr. John- 
son was published the same year? What great musician died the same year? 
In what circumstances were Burns's parents? Did his parents give their son 
any education ? Did Burns educate himself to any extent ? At what age 
did he begin to write poetry? What were some of his best early poems? 
Can you regard Burns as an illustration of the adage, Poeta nascitur, non 
fit? Illustrate this point fully by examples from literary history. Were 
his early poems popular? How was his first volume received? For what 
purpose was it published? What induced him to go to Edinburgh? How 
was he received by the famous men of that city? What effect did this recep- 
tion have on Burns? To what habit had he become addicted? Did he ever 
overcome it? What office was given him in 1789? What kind of life did 
Burns lead after this ? Cause of his death ? Give particulars concerning 
his personal appearance. What was Scott's remark on this point ? What 
can you say of the popularity of his songs and poems? popularity as a 
man? Are his writings popular to-day? How will you account for this 
popularity? Are his best works in his native dialect, or pure English? 
Quote a few words and sentences from Burns which have become famous. 



EXAMPLE. 



Outline of Life: Joseph Addison, 1672-1719. — 
Birth ; school and college life ; first attempt at writing ; 
receives pension ; travels ; literary drudgery in London ; 
"The Campaign;" beginning of a brilliant career; "Rosa- 
mond" and "The Drummer;" friendship with Steele; the 



THE LORD OF BURLEIGH AS A MODEL. 63 

"Tatler" and "Spectator;" Cato ; marriage; secretary of 
state ; political and miscellaneous writings ; early death ; 
tastes and studies ; personal appearance, peculiarities, and 
noble character ; his great contemporaries ; secret of his 
popularity as a man and as an author ; anecdotes. 

EXERCISE. 

With the help of the preceding "Outline," prepare a 
sketch of' Joseph Addison (see chap. xix.). Test the work 
by the following questions : — 

When and where was Addison born? What do you know about his 
father ? What famous author lived contemporary with Addison ? What 
famous essayist, novelist, writer of fiction, writer of hymns, and two great 
poets lived in his day ? At what great school was he educated ? At this 
school he formed a lifelong friendship with a man always associated with 
"The Spectator:" who was he? What do you know about his private and 
literary life ? At what university was Addison educated ? In what did he 
distinguish himself? What was his first literary attempt? To whom was 
this poem addressed? and with what result? What gained for him the 
attention of the court? How was he rewarded? Receiving a royal pension, 
where did he travel ? While Addison was living in obscurity in London, 
what memorable victory was gained by a famous soldier? What poem did 
Addison write to celebrate this victory? What was the effect upon the 
public and its author ? Explain the transient popularity of " The Campaign." 
Can you think of any poems which have made their authors well known in 
a similar way? Why did the popularity of this poem soon cease? What 
peculiar passage from this poem has saved it from oblivion ? The victory of 
Blenheim was the subject of a popular poem by a great author: what is the 
poem ? and who was the author ? 

To what political position was Addison chosen after writing this successful 
poem ? What writings followed ? How did he win his highest fame ? Who 
was Sir Richard Steele ? Give a short account of the origin of the "Tatler" 
and " Spectator." What men wrote for these periodicals ? During the sus- 
pension of the " Spectator," what tragedy did Addison bring out ? What can 
you say of it as a whole, — of its transient popularity, and the cause for it? 

What do you know of his unhappy marriage ? What high political office 
did he now receive ? What was the name of his residence ? and why has it 
been so celebrated? At what age did Addison die? What were some of 



64 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

his peculiarities as a man? as an author? Of all his writings, what have 
maintained their popularity? In what does the charm consist? Are his 
paraphrases well known ? Are they printed in hymn-books of all denomina- 
tions? Why so ? 

What was the state of English society when the " Spectator " appeared ? 
How will you explain the enthusiasm with which the "Spectator" was 
received? How will you account for its present popularity? Do you 
remember Dr. Johnson's familiar reference to the elegant style of Addison? 



EXERCISES. 



With the guide analysis of " The Lord of Burleigh " 
for a model, return to the texts of the following poems : — 

i. Longfellow's Wreck of the Hesperus. 2. Southey's Inchcape Rock. 
3. Wordsworth's We are Seven. 4. Bryant's White-Footed Deer. 5. Ten- 
nyson's Dora. 6. Longfellow's Norman Baron. 7. Scott's Rosabelle. 
8. Campbell's Lord Ullin's Daughter. 9. Southey's Battle of Blenheim. 
10. Whittier's Gift of Tritemius. 11. Tennyson's Lady Clare. 

Eight points in the guide analyses of these eleven poems 
have been explained (pp. 12, 33). Now we are ready to 
study each of these poems with reference to the two 
points added to the guide analysis of "The Lord of 
Burleigh." 



WRITTEN EXERCISES. 

Write a biographical sketch of the following authors, 
one or more of whose productions we have studied : — 

1. Henry W. Longfellow, author of The Wreck of the Hesperus, The 
Norman Baron, etc. 2. Robert Southey, author of The Inchcape Rock. 
3. William Wordsworth, author of We are Seven. 4. William Cul- 
len Bryant, author of The White-Footed Deer. 5. John G. Whittier, 
author of The Gift of Tritemius. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 6$ 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 



If the plan of study, suggested and explained in the 
preceding pages, has been carefully carried out in all its 
essential details, the student is now prepared to take one 
more step in advance, and. to begin work upon longer and 
more difficult poems. The main thing aimed at in any 
detailed plan of study is to lead the pupil to clearly and 
fully understand the meaning of the author, and to appre- 
ciate more thoroughly the worth and beauty of his thoughts 
and language. All helps should be strictly subordinated 
to this great aim. 

The following poems should be studied on the same 
general plan, modified in its details as circumstances may 
require. 

INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP. 

ROBERT BROWNING. 

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon : 

A mile or so away, 
On a little mound, Napoleon 

Stood on our storming day ; 
With neck out-thrust, — you fancy how, — 5 

Legs wide, arms locked behind, 
As if to balance the prone brow 

Oppressive with its mind. 

Just as perhaps he mused, " My plans, 

That soar, to earth may fall, IO 

Let once my army-leader Lannes 
Waver at yonder wall," — 



66 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew 

A rider, bound on bound 
Full galloping ; nor bridle drew 15 

Until he reached the mound. 

Then off there flung in smiling joy, 

And held himself erect 
By just his horse's mane, a boy : 

You hardly could suspect — 20 

(So tight he kept his lips compressed, 

Scarce any blood came through) 
You looked twice ere you saw his breast 

Was all but shot in two. 

" Well," cried he, " Emperor, by God's grace 2 5 

We've got you Ratisbon ! 
The marshal's in the market-place, 

And you'll be there anon 
To see your flag-bird flap his vans 

Where I, to heart's desire, 3° 

Perched him ! " The chief's eye flashed ; his plans 

Soared up again like fire. 

The chief's eye flashed ; but presently 

Softened itself, as sheathes 
A film the mother-eagle's eye 35 

When her bruised eaglet breathes : 
"You're wounded ! " — " Nay," the soldier's pride 

Touched to the quick, he said : 
" I'm killed, sire ! " And his chief beside, 

Smiling, the boy fell dead. 4° 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 67 

IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL. 

EMMIE. 

ALFRED TENNYSON. 



Our doctor had called in another, I never had seen him before, 
But he sent a chill to my heart when I saw him come in at the 

door, 
Fresh from the surgery-schools of France and of other lands — 
Harsh red hair, big voice, big chest, big merciless hands ! 
Wonderful cures he had done, oh, yes, but they said too of him, 5 
He was happier using the knife than in trying to save the limb ; 
And that I can well believe, for he looked so coarse and so red, 
I could think he was one of those who would break their jests on 

the dead, 
And mangle the living dog that had loved him and fawned at his 

knee — 
Drenched with the hellish oorali — that ever such things should 

be ! 10 

11. 

Here was a boy — I am sure that some of our children would die 
But for the voice of Love, and the smile, and the comforting eye — 
Here was a boy in the ward, every bone seemed out of its place — 
Caught in a mill and crushed — it was all but a hopeless case : 
And he handled him gently enough ; but his voice and his face 

were not kind, *5 

And it was but a hopeless case, he had seen it and made up his 

mind ; 
And he said to me roughly, "The lad will need little more of 

your care." 
"All the more need," I told him, "to seek the Lord Jesus in 

prayer : 



68 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

They are all his children here, and I pray for them all as my 

own." 
But he turned to me, " Ay, good woman, can prayer set a broken 

bone?" 20 

Then he muttered half to himself, but I know that I heard him 

say, 
" All very well — but the good Lord Jesus has had his day." 

in. 

Had ? has it come ? It has only dawned. It will come by and 

by. 
Oh, how could I serve in the wards if the hope of the world were 

a lie? 
How could I bear with the sights and the loathsome smells of 

disease, 2 5 

But that He said, " Ye do it to me, when ye do it to these " ? 

IV. 

So he went. And we passed to this ward where the younger 

children are laid. 
Here is the cot of our orphan, our darling, our meek little maid ; 
Empty you see just now ! We have lost her who loved her so 

much, — 
Patient of pain, though as quick as a sensitive-plant to the touch. 
Hers was the prettiest prattle ; it often moved me to tears. 
Hers was the gratefullest heart I have found in a child of her 

years — 
Nay, you remember our Emmie ; you used to send her the 

flowers. 
How she would smile at 'em, play with 'em, talk to 'em hours 

after hours ! 
They that can wander at will where the works of the Lord are 

revealed, 35 

Little guess what joy can be got from a cowslip out of the field ; 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 69 

Flowers to these " spirits in prison " are all they can know of the 

spring ; 
They freshen and sweeten the wards like the waft of an angel's 

wing. 
And she lay with a flower in one hand, and her thin hands crossed 

on her breast, — 
Wan, but as pretty as heart can desire, and we thought her at 

rest, 40 

Quietly sleeping — so quiet, our doctor said, " Poor little dear ! 
Nurse, I must do it to-morrow ; she'll never live through it, I 

fear." 

v. 

I walked with our kindly old doctor as far as the head of the stair, 
Then I returned to the ward ; the child didn't see I was there. 

VI. 

Never since I was nurse had I been so grieved and so vext ! 45 
Emmie had heard him. Softly she called from her cot to the 

next, — 
"He says I shall never live through it; O Annie, what shall I 

do?" 
Annie considered. " If I," said the wise little Annie, "was you, 
I should cry to the dear Lord Jesus to help me ; for, Emmie, you 

see 
It's all in the picture there : ' Little children should come to 

me.' " 5° 

(Meaning the print that you gave us. I find that it always can 

please 
Our children, — the dear Lord Jesus with children about his 

knees.) 
" Yes, and I will," said Emmie, " but then if I call to the Lord, 
How should he know that it's me? such a lot of beds in the 

ward ! " 



70 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

That was a puzzle for Annie. Again she considered, and said : 55 
" Emmie, you put out your arms, and you leave 'em outside on 

the bed ; 
The Lord has so much to see to ! but, Emmie, you tell it him 

plain, — 
It's the little girl with her arms lying out on the counterpane." 

VII. 

I had sat three nights by the child, I could not watch her for 

four ; 
My brain had begun to reel, I felt I could do it no more. 6o 

That was my sleeping-night, but I thought that it never would 

pass. 
There was a thunder-clap once, and a clatter of hail on the glass, 
And there was a phantom cry that I heard as I tossed about, 
The motherless bleat of a lamb in the storm and the darkness 

without. 
My sleep was broken besides with dreams of the dreadful knife, 6 5 
And fears for our delicate Emmie, who scarce would escape with 

her life. 
Then in the gray of the morning, it seemed she stood by me and 

smiled. 
And the doctor came at his hour, and we went to see to the child. 

VIII. 

He had brought his ghastly tools : we believed her asleep again, 
Her dear, long, lean, little arms lying out on the counterpane. 7° 
Say that His day is done ! Ah, why should we care what they 

say? 
The Lord of the children had heard her, and Emmie had passed 

away. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. J l 

LOCHINVAR. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

O young Lochinvar is come out of the west, 

Through all the wide Border his steed was the best, 

And save his good broadsword he weapons had none ; 

He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. 

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 5 

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, 

He swam the Eske river where ford there was none ; 

But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 

The bride had consented, the gallant came late : i 

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 

Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 

So boldly he entered the Netherby hall, 

Among bride's-men and kinsmen, and brothers, and all ; 

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword i 5 

(For the poor craven bridegroom spoke never a word), 

" O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 

Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" 

" I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied : 

Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide ; 2 o 

And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, 

To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 

There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far 

That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." 

The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it up, 25 

He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup ; 



72 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, 

With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. 

He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, — 

" Now tread we a measure ! " said young Lochinvar. 3Q 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 

That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; 

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume ; 

And the bride-maidens whispered, " 'Twere better by far 35 

To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 

When they reached the hall- door, and the charger stood near : 

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung ! 

So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 4 o 

" She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ! 

They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan : 

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran ; 

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee ; 45 

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 

So daring in love and so dauntless in war, 

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 



THE DEFENCE OF LUCKNOW. 

ALFRED TENNYSON. 

Banner of England, not for a season, O banner of Britain, hast 

thou 
Floated in conquering battle, or flapped to the battle-cry ! 
Never with mightier glory than when we had reared thee on high, 
Flying at top of the roofs in the ghastly siege of Lucknow ; 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 73 

Shot through the staff or the halyard, but ever we raised thee 
anew, 5 

And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. 

Frail were the works that defended the hold that we held with our 

lives, — 
Women and children among us, God help them, our children and 

wives ! 
Hold it we might, — and for fifteen days, or for twenty at most. 
" Never surrender, I charge you, but every man die at his 

post ! " 10 

Voice of the dead whom we loved, — our Lawrence, the best of 

the brave : 
Cold were his brows when we kissed him, — we laid him that 

night in his grave. 
" Every man die at his post ! " and there hailed on our houses 

and halls 
Death from their rifle-bullets, and death from their cannon-balls, 
Death in our innermost chamber, and death at our slight barricade, 
Death while we stood with the musket, and death while we stooped 

to the spade, 
Death to the dying, and wounds to the wounded, for often there fell, 
Striking the hospital wall, crashing through it, their shot and their 

shell 1 
Death, — for their spies were among us, their marksmen were told 

of our best, 
So that the brute bullet broke through the brain that could think 

for the rest. 20 

Bullets would sing by our foreheads, and bullets would rain at our 

feet; 
Fire from ten thousand at once of the rebels that girdled us round ; 
Death at the glimpse of a finger from over the breadth of a street ; 
Death from the heights of the mosque and the palace, and death 

in the ground ! 



74 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Mine ? Yes, a mine ! Countermine ! down, down ! and creep 
through the hole ; 25 

Keep the revolver in hand ! you can hear him, — the murderous 
mole ! 

Quiet, ah, quiet ! wait till the point of the pickaxe be through ! 

Click with the pick, coming nearer and nearer again than before ; 

Now let it speak, and you fire, and the dark pioneer is no 
more ; 

And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. 30 

Ay, but the foe sprung his mine many times, and it chanced on a 

day, 
Soon as the blast of that underground thunder-clap echoed away, 
Dark through the smoke and the sulphur, like so many fiends in 

their hell, — 
Cannon-shot, musket-shot, volley on volley, and yell upon yell, 
Fiercely on all the defences our myriad enemy fell. 35 

What have they done? where is it? Out yonder. Guard the 

Redan ! 
Storm at the Water-gate ! storm at the Bailey-gate ! storm ! and it 

ran 
Surging and swaying all round us, as ocean on every side 
Plunges and heaves at a bank that is daily drowned by the 

tide, — 
So many thousands that, if they be bold enough, who shall escape ? 
Kill or be killed, live or die, they shall know we are soldiers and 

men ! 
Ready ! take aim at their leaders ; their masses are gapped with 

our grape : 
Backward they reel like the wave, like the wave flinging forward 

again, 
Flying and foiled at the last by the handful they could not sub- 
due ; 
And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. 45 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 75 

Handful of men as we were, we were English in heart and in limb ; 
Strong with the strength of the race to command, to obey, to 

endure ; 
Each of us fought as if hope for the garrison hung but on him ; 
Still — could we watch at all points ? We were every day fewer 

and fewer. 
There was a whisper among us, but only a whisper that passed : 50 
" Children and wives, — if the tigers leap into the fold unawares, 
Every man die at his post, and the foe may outlive us at last, — 
Better to fall by the hands that they love than to fall into 

theirs ! " 
Roar upon roar, in a moment two mines by the enemy sprung 
Clove into perilous chasms our walls and our poor palisades. 55 
Rifleman, true is your heart, but be sure that your hand be as true ! 
Sharp is the fire of assault, better aimed are your flank fusillades ; 
Twice do we hurl them to earth from the ladders to which they 

had clung, 
Twice from the ditch where they shelter we drive them with hand- 
grenades ; 
And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. 60 

Then on another wild morning another wild earthquake out-tore 
Clean from our lines of defence ten or twelve good paces or 

more. 
Rifleman, high on the roof, hidden there from the light of the sun, 
One has leapt up on the breach, crying out, " Follow me, follow 

me ! " 
Mark him, he falls ! then another, and him too, and down goes he. 
Had they been bold enough then, who can tell but the traitors 

had won? 
Boardings and rafters and doors — an embrasure ! make way for 

the gun ! 
Now double-charge it with grape ! It is charged, and we fire, 

and they run ! 



76 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Praise to our Indian brothers, and let the dark face have his 

due ; 
Thanks to the kindly dark faces who fought with us faithful and 

few, — 7 o 

Fought with the bravest among us, and drove them, and smote 

them, and slew, 
That ever upon the topmost roof our banner in India blew. 

Men will forget what we suffer, and not what we do. We can 

fight.; 
But to be soldier all day, and be sentinel all through the night, — 
Ever the mine and assault, our sallies, their lying alarms. 75 

Bugles and drums in the darkness, and shoutings and soundings to 

arms, ' 

Ever the labor of fifty that had to be done by five, 
Ever the marvel among us that one should be left alive, 
Ever the day with its traitorous death from the loopholes around, 
Ever the night with its coffmless corpse to be laid in the 
ground, 80 

Heat like the mouth of hell, or a deluge of cataract skies, 
Stench of old offal decaying, and infinite torment of flies, 
Thoughts of the breezes of May blowing over an English field, 
Cholera, scurvy, and fever, the wound that would not be healed, 
Lopping away of the limb by the pitiful-pitiless knife, — 85 

Torture and trouble in vain, for it never could save us a life, 
Valor of delicate women who tended the hospital bed, 
Horror of women in travail among the dying and dead, 
Grief for our perishing children, and never a moment for grief, 
Toil and ineffable weariness, faltering hopes of relief; 9 o 

Havelock baffled, or beaten, or butchered for all that we knew, — 
Then day and night, day and night, coming down on the still- 
shattered walls, 
Millions of musket-bullets, and thousands of cannon-balls, — 
But ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. J? 

Hark ! Cannonade, fusillade ! Is it true what was told by the 
scout, — 95 

Outram and Havelock breaking their way through the fell muti- 
neers ? 
Surely the pibroch of Europe is ringing again in our ears ! 
All on a sudden the garrison utter a jubilant shout, — 
Havelock's glorious Highlanders answer with conquering cheers. 
Sick from the hospital echo them, women and children come out, 
Blessing the wholesome white faces of Havelock's good fusileers, 
Kissing the war-hardened hand of the Highlander wet with their 

tears. 
Dance to the pibroch ! — saved, we are saved ! is it you ? is it 

you? 
Saved by the valor of Havelock, saved by the blessing of Heaven ! 
" Hold it for fifteen days ! " we have held it for eighty-seven ! 105 
And ever aloft on the palace-roof the old banner of England blew. 



THE BATTLE OF IVRY. 

LORD MACAULAY. 

Now glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are ! 
And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre ! 
Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance, 
Through thy cornfields green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of 

France ! 
And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, 5 
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. 
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy ; 
For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. 
Hurrah, hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance ot war, 
Hurrah, hurrah for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre ! 10 

Oh, how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day, 
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array, 



y8 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

With all its priest-led citizens and all its rebel peers, 
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears ! 
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land ; i 5 
And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand ; 
And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood, 
And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood ; 
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, 
To fight for his own holy name and Henry of Navarre. 2 o 

The King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest ; 

And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. 

He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye ; 

He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. 

Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, 25 

Down all our line, in deafening shout, " God save our lord the 

King ! " 
"And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may, — 
For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, — 
Press where ye see my white plume shine amidst the ranks of 

war, 
And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre." 3 o 

Hurrah ! the foes are moving ! Hark to the mingled din 

Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin ! 

The fiery Duke is pricking fast across St. Andre's plain, 

With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. 

Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, 35 

Charge for the golden lilies now, — upon them with the lance ! 

A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, 

A thousand knights are pressing close behind the "snow-white 

crest ; 
And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding 

star, 
Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. 40 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 79 

Now God be praised, the clay is ours ! Mayenne hath turned his 

rein ; 
D'Aumale hath cried for quarter ; the Flemish count is slain. 
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale ; 
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven 

mail. 
And then we thought on vengeance ; and all along our van, 45 

" Remember St. Bartholomew," was passed from man to man. 
But out spake gentle Henry then : " No Frenchman is my foe : 
Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go." 
Oh ! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war, 
As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre ! 5 o 



Right well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for France 

to-day ; 
And many a lordly banner God gave them for a prey. 
But we of the religion have borne us best in fight ; 
And the good Lord of Rosny hath ta'en the cornet white. 
Our own true Maximilian the cornet white hath ta'en, — 55 

The cornet white with crosses black, the flag of false Lorraine. 
Up with it high, unfurl it wide, that all the host may know 
How God hath humbled the proud house which wrought his 

Church such woe. 
Then on the ground, while trumpets sound their loudest points of 

war, 
Fling the red shreds, a foot-cloth meet for Henry of Navarre. 60 



Ho, maidens- of Vienna ! Ho, matrons of Lucerne ! 

Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall 

return. 
Ho, Philip ! send for charity thy Mexican pistoles, 
That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's 

souls. 



8o FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Ho, gallant nobles of the League ! look that your arms be bright ; 
Ho, burghers of St. Genevieve ! keep watch and ward to-night. 
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the 

slave, 
And mocked the counsel of the wise and the valor of the brave. 
Then glory to his holy name, from whom all glories are ! 
And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre ! 7o 



WRITTEN EXERCISES. 

Write a biographical sketch of the following authors, 
one or more of whose productions we have studied : — 

i. Sir Walter Scott, author of Rosabelle. 2. Thomas Campbell, 
author of Lord Ullin's Daughter. 3. Alfred Tennyson, author of Lady 
Clare. 4. Robert Browning, author of Incident of the French Camp. 
5. Lord Macaulay, author of The Battle of Ivry. 



ADDITIONAL PIECES FOR STUDY. 

Longfellow's Phantom Ship, Falcon of Ser Federigo, 
Birds of Killingworth, Bells of Atri ; Tennyson's Enoch 
Arden; Whittier's Conductor Bradley, Two Rabbis, 
Legend of St. Mark ; Bryant's Planting of the Apple- 
Tree, Two Travellers ; Cowper's John Gilpin, Alexander 
Selkirk ; Campbell's Battle of the Baltic, Soldier's Dream, 
Napoleon and the British Sailor. 



THE STUDY OF A TROSE SELECTION. 



CHAPTER V. 

OUTLINES FOE THE STUDY OF A PROSE SELECTION. 

Thus far in this book we have confined our attention 
to the study of standard poems. We are now prepared to 
begin a similar work in prose selections. To insure 
good results, some definite plan of study must first be 
arranged. In a general way prose selections need less 
methods and devices than poetry to lead pupils to appre- 
ciate and admire them. 

We present the following guide analysis for the study 
of a prose selection. Several of its points have been fully 
explained in the foregoing chapters ; hence it will not be 
necessary to repeat the detailed explanation already given. 



GUIDE ANALYSIS FOR THE STUDY OF A FROSE 
SELECTION. 

I. Read the piece carefully and thoughtfully, 

II. Recite the story of the piece. 

III. Write a paraphrase of the piece. 

IV. Divide the selection into parts or scenes. 
V. The unity of the parts. 

VI. Minor details -which illustrate the piece. 

VII. The study of the text. 

VIII. An exercise in criticism. 

IX. Memory quotations. 

X. The author of the piece. 



82 FIKST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



EXPLANATION OF THE GUIDE ANALYSIS. 

Read the Piece carefully and thoughtfully. — This point 
has been fully explained. See p. 12. 

Recite tJie Story of the Piece. — In many prose pieces, 
as in many poems, it is not practicable to attempt to tell 
the story; in fact, there is oftentimes very little of a 
"story" to tell (See p. 12). Hence, in prose selections this 
direction may be omitted at the discretion of the teacher. 

Write a Paraphrase of the Piece. — In a general way 
follow the directions as fully explained on p. 33. 

Divide the Selection into Parts or Scenes. See p. 34. 

The Unity of the Parts. — Whenever it can be done 
conveniently, follow the directions as explained on p. 35. 
In many prose pieces, however, it is not always advisable 
or practicable. 

Minor Details which illustrate the Poem. — There will 
be found ample material for exact, useful, and interesting 
study, in a full knowledge of the allusions which occur so 
plentifully in all standard writings. No difficult point in 
syntax, prosody, accidence, or pronunciation, no variation 
in manners or customs, no historical or geographical allu- 
sion, should be. passed over without explanation. Special 
pains must be taken to get a thorough understanding of 
the force and character of epithets, the meaning of similes, 
the expansions of metaphors, and the exact moaning of 
individual words. See p. 36. 

The Study of the Text. — Follow the general directions 
as given on pp. 13, 36. 

An Exercise in Criticism. — (See p. 58.) This is one 
point upon which it is impossible to give short rules, and 



THE STUDY OF A PROSE SELECTION. S$ 

on which, nevertheless, stress should be laid. The amount 
and completeness of criticism, which can be usefully 
employed, will depend on the capacity of teacher and 
pupil ; at the same time, no author can be satisfactorily 
studied unless the student's attention is drawn to his 
chief peculiarities of thought and language, to the place 
he occupies in the history of literature, and the influences 
which seem to have affected him most. 

Memory Quotations. 1 — See p. 58. 

The Author of the Piece. — (See p. 14.) The life and 
times of the author should be studied, and the connection 
between the characteristic features or the literature of 
his era, and the general history of the period, developed. 
Any illustrations of the modes of thought, manners, 
customs, political views, etc., of the period, that can be 
drawn from his pages, should be brought to the attention 
of the class. 

Not only the life of the special author whom we are 
studying, but also the lives of his friends, rivals, and 
otherwise connected contemporaries, should be carefully 
examined. 

1 " To what extent shall the memory be called upon in the study of English 
literature? Not, I think, to commit long passages, whole books, and cantos of 
poems. Let the pupil absorb as much as possible in frequent reading and in study. 
Now and then, let a few striking lines, that have been learned by heart rather than 
committed to memory, be recited. Do not make a disagreeable task of any such 
exercise. For, that our pupils may receive the highest and best influence from this 
study of English literature, it is essential that they love it, and retain only pleas- 
ant memories of the hours spent at school in the society of its best authors." — 

L. R. WlLLISTON. 



84 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



A METHOD OF CLASS EXERCISES IN ENGLISH 
LITERATURE. 

[From Sprague's " Six Selections from Irving's Sketch-Book."] 

The following excellent suggestions will prove helpful. 

i. At the beginning of the daily exercise, or as often as need be, 
require a statement of — 

(a) The main object of the author in the whole poem, oration, play, 
or other production, of which to-day's lesson is a part. 

(b) The object of the author in this particular canto, chapter, act, 
or other division of the main work. 

2. Read or recite from memory (or have the pupils do it) the finest 
part Or parts of the last lesson. The elocutionary talent of the class 
should be utilized here, so that the author may appear at his best. 

3. Require at times (often enough to keep the whole fresh in mem' 
ory) a resume of the " argument," story, or succession of topics, up to 
the present lesson. 

4. Let the student read aloud the sentence, paragraph, or lines, now 
(or previously) assigned. The appointed portion should have some 
unity. 

5. If the passage is fine, let the student interpret exactly the mean- 
ing by substituting his own words; explain peculiarities. This para- 
phrase should often be in writing. 

6. Immediate object of the author in these lines ? Is this object 
relevant? important? appropriate in this place? 

7. Ingredients (particular thoughts) that make up the passage? 
Are they in good taste? just? natural? well arranged? sufficient? 
superfluous ? 

8. Point out other merits or defects ; any thing noteworthy as re- 
gards nobleness of principle or sentiment, grace, delicacy, beauty, 
rhythm, sublimity, wit, wisdom, humor, naivete, kindness, pathos, 
energy, concentrated truth, logical force, originality, allusions, kindred 
passages, principles illustrated, etc. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 85 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 

The following prose selections, taken from the works 
of standard authors, are now to be studied somewhat after 
the plan suggested in the preceding guide analysis. 
Other pieces equally good may be readily found in 
advanced reading-books or works of selections. 

Every good teacher will have a method of his own for 
handling a prose piece in the class-room ; hence it is not 
to be supposed that the preceding plan, and its sugges- 
tions, will be literally followed. We have simply under- 
taken to suggest some general principles of method, 
together with a few practical hints of details, rather than 
to dictate any formal course of procedure. 



THE VOYAGE. 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 

[From " The Sketch-Book."] 

" Ships, ships, I will descrie you 
Amidst the main, 
I will come and try you, 
What you are protecting, 
And projecting, 

What's your end and aim. 
One goes abroad for merchandise and trading, 
Another stays to keep his country from invading, 
A third is coming home with rich and wealthy lading. 

Halloo ! my fancie, whither wilt thou go ? " — Old Poem. 

To an American visiting Europe, the long voyage he has to 
make is an excellent preparative. The temporary absence of 
worldly scenes and employments produces a state of mind pecul- 
iarly fitted to receive new and vivid impressions. The vast space 



86 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

of waters that separates the hemispheres is like a blank page in 
existence. There is no gradual transition by which, as in Europe, 
the features and population of one country blend almost imper- 
ceptibly with those of another. From the moment you lose sight 
of the land you have left, all is vacancy until you step on the 
opposite shore, and are launched at once into the bustle and 
novelties of another world. 

In travelling by land there is a continuity of scene, and a con- 
nected succession of persons and incidents that carry on the story 
of life, and lessen the effect of absence and separation. We 
drag, it is true, " a lengthening chain," at each remove of our 
pilgrimage ; but the chain is unbroken, we can trace it back link 
by link, and we feel that the last still grapples us to home. But 
a wide sea-voyage severs us at once. It makes us conscious of 
being cast loose from the secure anchorage of settled life, and 
sent adrift upon a doubtful world. It interposes a gulf, not merely 
imaginary, but real, between us and our homes, — a gulf subject 
to tempest and fear and uncertainty, rendering distance palpable, 
and return precarious. 

Such, at least, was the case with myself. As I saw the last blue 
line of my native land fade away like a cloud in the horizon, it 
seemed as if I had closed one volume of the world and its con- 
tents, and had time for meditation before I opened another. That 
land, too, now vanishing from my view, which contained all most 
dear to me in life, — what vicissitudes might occur in it, what 
changes might take place in me, before I should visit it again ! 
Who can tell, when he sets forth to wander, whither he may be 
driven by the uncertain currents of existence, or when he may 
return, or whether it may ever be his lot to revisit the scenes of 
his childhood ? 

I said that at sea all is vacancy : I should correct the expres- 
sion. To one given to day-dreaming, and fond of losing himself 
in reveries, a sea-voyage is full of subjects for meditation ; but 
then they are the wonders of the deep and of the air, and rather 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 87 

tend to abstract the mind from worldly themes. I delighted to 
loll over the quarter-railing, or climb to the main-top, of a calm 
day, and muse for hours together on the tranquil bosom of a 
summer's sea ; to gaze upon the piles of golden clouds just peer- 
ing above the horizon, fancy them some fairy realms, and people 
them with a creation of my own ; to watch the gentle undulating 
billows, rolling their silver volumes as if to die away on those 
happy shores. 

There was a delicious sensation of mingled security and awe 
with which I looked down, from my giddy height, on the monsters 
of the deep at their uncouth gambols, — shoals of porpoises 
tumbling about the bow of the ship ; the grampus slowly heaving 
his huge form above the surface ; or the ravenous shark, darting 
like a spectre through the blue waters. My imagination would 
conjure up all that I had heard 01 read of the watery world be- 
neath me, — of the finny herds that roam its fathomless valleys, of 
the shapeless monsters that lurk among the very foundations 
of the earth, and of those wild phantasms that swell the tales of 
fishermen and sailors. 

Sometimes a distant sail, gliding along the edge of the ocean, 
would be another theme of idle speculation. How interesting 
this fragment of a world, hastening to rejoin the great mass of 
existence ! What a glorious monument of human invention, which 
has in a manner triumphed over wind and wave ; has brought the 
ends of the world into communion ; has established an inter- 
change of blessings, pouring into the sterile regions of the North 
all the luxuries of the South ; has diffused the light of knowledge 
and the charities of cultivated life ; and has thus bound together 
those scattered portions of the human race, between which Na- 
ture seemed to have thrown an insurmountable barrier ! 

We one day descried some shapeless object drifting at a dis- 
tance. At sea, every thing that breaks the monotony of the sur- 
rounding expanse attracts attention. It proved to be the mast 
of a ship that must have been completely wrecked ; for there 



88 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

were the remains of handkerchiefs, by which some of the crew 
had fastened themselves to this spar, to prevent their being 
washed off by the waves. There was no trace by which the name 
of the ship could be ascertained. The wreck had evidently 
drifted about for many months ; clusters of shell-fish had fastened 
about it, and long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides. But where, 
thought I, is the crew? Their struggle has long been over, — 
they have gone down amidst the roar of the tempest, — their 
bones lie whitening among the caverns of the deep. Silence, 
oblivion, like the waves, have closed over them, and no one can 
tell the story of their end. What sighs have been wafted after 
that ship ! what prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of 
home. How often has the mistress, the wife, the mother, pored 
over the daily news, to catch some casual intelligence of this rover 
of the deep ! How has expectation darkened into anxiety, — 
anxiety into dread, — and dread into despair! Alas! not one 
memento may ever return for love to cherish. All that may ever 
be known is that she sailed from her port, "and was never heard 
of more ! " 

The sight of this wreck, as usual, gave rise to many dismal 
anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the evening, when 
the weather, which had hitherto been fair, began to look wild and 
threatening, and gave indications of one of those sudden storms 
which will sometimes break in- upon the serenity of a summer 
voyage. As we sat round the dull light of a lamp in the cabin, 
that made the gloom more ghastly, every one had his tale of ship- 
wreck and disaster. I was particularly struck with a short one 
related by the captain. 

" As I was once sailing," said he, " in a fine stout ship across 
the Banks of Newfoundland, one of those heavy fogs which pre- 
vail in those parts rendered it impossible for us to see far ahead 
even in the daytime ; but at night the weather was so thick that 
we could not distinguish any object at twice the length of the 
ship. I kept lights at the mast-head, and a constant watch forward 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 89 

to look out for fishing smacks, which are accustomed to lie at 
anchor on the Banks. The wind was blowing a smacking breeze, 
and we were going at a great rate through the water. Suddenly 
the watch gave the alarm of ' A sail ahead ! ' It was scarcely 
uttered before we were upon her. She was a small schooner, at 
anchor, with her broadside towards us. The crew were all asleep, 
and had neglected to hoist a light. We struck her just amidships. 
The force, the size, and weight of our vessel bore her down below 
the waves. We passed over her, and were hurried on our course. 
As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, I had a glimpse of 
two or three half-naked wretches rushing from her cabin ; they 
just started from their beds to be swallowed shrieking by the 
waves. I heard their drowning cry mingling with the wind. The 
blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of all farther hearing. I 
shall never forget that cry ! It was some time before we could 
put the ship about, she was under such headway. We returned, 
as nearly as we could guess, to the place where the smack had 
anchored. W T e cruised about for several hours in the dense fog. 
We fired signal-guns, and listened if we might hear the halloo of 
any survivors ; but all was silent, — we never saw or heard any 
thing of them more." 

I confess these stories, for a time, put an end to all my fine 
fancies. The storm increased with the night. The sea was lashed 
into tremendous confusion. There was a fearful, sullen sound of 
rushing waves and broken surges. Deep called unto deep. At 
times the black volume of clouds overhead seemed rent asunder 
by flashes of lightning, which quivered along the foaming billows, 
and made the succeeding darkness doubly terrible. The thunders 
bellowed over the wild waste of waters, and were echoed and 
prolonged by the mountain waves. As I saw the ship staggering 
and plunging among these roaring caverns, it seemed miraculous 
that she regained her balance, or preserved her buoyancy. Her 
yards would dip into the water : her bow was almost buried be- 
neath the waves. Sometimes an impending surge appeared ready 



90 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

to overwhelm her, and nothing but a dexterous movement of the 
helm preserved her from the shock. 

When I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still followed me. 
The whistling of the wind through the rigging sounded like funereal 
wailings. The creaking of the masts, the straining and groaning 
of bulkheads, as the ship labored in the weltering sea, were 
frightful. As I heard the waves rushing along the sides of the 
ship, and roaring in my very ear, it seemed as if Death were 
raging round this floating prison, seeking for his prey ; the mere 
starting of a nail, the yawning of a seam, might give him en- 
trance. 

A fine day, however, with a tranquil sea and favoring breeze, 
soon put all these dismal reflections to flight. It is impossible to 
resist the gladdening influence of fine weather and fair wind at 
sea. When the ship is decked out in all her canvas, every sail 
swelled, and careering gayly over the curling waves, how lofty, 
how gallant she appears, — how she seems to lord it over the 
deep ! 

I might fill a volume with the reveries of a sea-voyage, — for 
with me it is almost a continual revery, — but it is time to get to 
shore. 

It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of " Land ! " 
was given from the mast-head. None but those who have experi- 
enced it can form an idea of the delicious throng of sensations 
which rush into an American's bosom when he first comes in sight 
of Europe. There is a volume of associations with the very 
name. It is the land of promise, teeming with every thing of 
which his childhood has heard, or on which his studious years 
have pondered. 

From that time until the moment of arrival, it was all feverish 
excitement. The ships of war, that prowled like guardian giants 
along the coast ; the headlands of Ireland, stretching out into the 
channel ; the Welsh mountains, towering into the clouds, — all 
were objects of intense interest. As we sailed up the Mersey, I 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 9 1 

reconnoitred the shores with a telescope. My eye dwelt with 
delight on neat cottages, with their trim shrubberies and green 
grass-plots. I saw the mouldering ruin of an abbey overrun 
with ivy, and the taper spire of a village church rising from 
the brow of a neighboring hill : all were characteristic of Eng- 
land. 

The tide and wind were so favorable that the ship was enabled 
to come at once to the pier. It was thronged with people ; some 
idle lookers-on, others eager expectants of friends or relatives. I 
could distinguish the merchant to whom the ship was consigned. 
I knew him by his calculating brow and restless air. His hands 
were thrust into his pockets ; he was whistling thoughtfully, and 
walking to and fro, a small space having been accorded him by 
the crowd, in deference to his temporary importance. There were 
repeated cheerings and salutations interchanged between the shore 
and the ship, as friends happened to recognize each other. I 
particularly noticed one young woman of humble dress, but in- 
teresting demeanor. She was leaning forward from among the 
crowd ; her eye hurried over the ship as it neared the shore, to 
catch some wished-for countenance. She seemed disappointed 
and agitated, when I heard a faint voice call her name. It was 
from a poor sailor who had been ill all the voyage, and had excited 
the sympathy of every one on board. When the weather was 
fine, his messmates had spread a mattress for him on deck in the 
shade ; but of late his illness had so increased, that he had taken 
to his hammock, and only breathed a wish that he might see his 
wife before he died. 

He had been helped on deck as we came up the river, and was 
now leaning against the shrouds, with a countenance so wasted, 
so pale, and so ghastly, that it is no wonder even the eye of 
affection did not recognize him. But at the sound of his voice 
her eye darted on his features, it read at once a whole volume of 
sorrow ; she clasped her hands, uttered a faint shriek, and stood 
wringing them in silent agony. 



Q2 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

All now was hurry and bustle, — the meeting of acquaintances, 
the greetings of friends, the consultations of men of business. I 
alone was solitary and idle. I had no friend to meet, no cheering 
to receive. I stepped upon the land of my forefathers, but felt 
that I was a stranger in the land. 



QUESTIONS ON THE VOYAGE. 

[From Sprague's " Six Selections from Irving's Sketch-Book."] 

What is the gulf that a voyage interposes between us and our homes ? 
What words describe it? "Whither he may be driven." Why is whither 
better than where? Which of them means to what place? Which of them 
means at or in what place ? "I said that at sea all is vacancy." Quote any 
previous passage containing this idea. What were some of the amusements 
of the voyage ? Day-dreaming ? Looking down " on the monsters of the 
deep at their uncouth gambols " ? Watching a distant sail ? Contemplating 
the object seen at a distance, — the mast of a wrecked ship? Story-telling? 
Any other ? " Expectation, anxiety, dread, despair : " which expresses the 
strongest feeling? How are the words arranged? Define a climax. What 
"has brought the ends of the earth into communion '? How? Narrate in 
your own words the captain's story. Point out the most pathetic expressions 
in it. What does Irving say of the ship during the storm? Explain "how 
she seems to lord it over the deep ! " Contrast that with the description of 
her course during the storm. What were objects of interest as the ship 
approached the shore ? At what point did they land ? Describe the crowd 
on the pier. Who was the most important person there ? What pathetic 
incident is told? "I stepped upon the land of my forefathers." Who? 
Why land of my forefathers ? Express the idea of the last sentence in other 
words. 

Select nautical words or phrases in this sketch. Was the voyage made in 
a steamer, or in a sailing-vessel ? Give reasons for the answer. What 
is the general character of this sketch? Description? Commit to memory 
the paragraph beginning, " We one day descried some shapeless object," 
etc. Select and commit to memory any other passage in the piece. Give 
your reason for your selection. What is the simple subject in the first 
sentence in this sketch? The entire subject ? 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 93 



EXERCISE. 

Write a biographical sketch of Washington Irving. 
(See chap, viii.) 

Test the work by answering the following questions : — 

QUESTIONS ON IRVING AND THE SKETCH-BOOK. 

Mention some facts in the early life of Irving. Mention a noteworthy- 
incident of his infancy. How did Irving conduct himself at school ? How 
did he lay a foundation for his literary career? What can you tell of his 
youthful rambles about Manhattan Island? What use did he afterward 
make of this information ? What profession did he choose ? What can you 
say of his first trip abroad ? Mention some of the famous men he met. 
What did he try to do on his return? What was his first literary work ? 
The "Salmagundi Papers," and their success? Mention the romantic 
episode which colored all his after-life. What was Irving's first decided 
literary success ? Give some details about the work, and the reception it 
received. What sent Irving to Europe for the second time, in 1S15? With 
what success? What induced him to adopt literature as a profession? 
What lucrative offers did he decline ? When was the first number of the 
"Sketch-Book" published? How was Irving forced to protect his interests 
in England ? In what way did Scott help Irving ? How was the " Sketch- 
Book" received ? W T hat famous literary persons became Irving's friends? 
What was his second work, and how received? His third in 1S24? Where 
did Irving now take up his residence? What works followed during the 
next six years, 1S26-32? When did Irving return to America? What 
extended tour did he make? with what literary result? Where did Irving 
select a home for himself? Did the place become a celebrated literary 
resort? What famous persons made pilgrimages to " Sunnyside " ? What 
literary labors followed shortly after his return ? What great honor was 
conferred upon Irving in 1842? How did Irving pass the last years of his 
life? What was his last literary labor ? When and where did Irving die ? 
Where buried? What tributes were paid to his memory? What was the 
secret of Irving's popularity as a writer ? What can you say of him as a 
man? The prominent characteristics of his works? What led Irving to 
write and publish the "Sketch-Book"? Mention the titles of the different 
sketches. Which one is your favorite? Why? Are some of the papers 
founded upon the actual experience of the author? Which one has been 
dramatized? by whom? for whom? Why was the book so popular in Eng- 
land? What was the state of American literature at the time it was written ? 



94 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

WILLIAM THE SILENT. 

JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY. 
[From the " Rise of the Dutch Republic," vol. i.] 

The history of the rise of the Netherland Republic has been at 
the same time the biography of William the Silent. This, while 
it gives unity to the narrative, renders an elaborate description of 
his character superfluous. That life was a noble Christian epic ; 
inspired with one great purpose from its commencement to its 
close ; the stream flowing ever from one fountain with expanding 
fulness, but retaining all its original purity. A few general obser- 
vations are all which are necessary by way of conclusion. 

In person, Orange was above the middle height, perfectly well 
made and sinewy, but rather spare than stout. His eyes, hair, 
beard, and complexion were brown. His head was small, sym- 
metrically shaped, combining the alertness and compactness 
characteristic of the soldier, with the capacious brow furrowed 
prematurely with the horizontal lines of thought, denoting the 
statesman and the sage. His physical appearance was, therefore, 
in harmony with his organization, which was of antique model. 
Of his moral qualities, the most prominent was his piety. He 
was more than any thing else a religious man. From his trust in 
God he ever derived support and consolation in the darkest hours. 
Implicitly relying upon Almighty wisdom and goodness, he looked 
danger in the face with a constant smile, and endured incessant 
labors and trials with a serenity which seemed more than human. 
While, however, his soul was full of piety, it was tolerant of error. 
Sincerely and deliberately himself a convert to the Reformed 
Church, he was ready to extend freedom of worship to Catholics 
on the one hand, and to Anabaptists on the other ; for no man 
ever felt more keenly than he that the reformer who becomes in 
his turn a bigot is doubly odious. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 95 

His firmness was allied to his piety. His constancy in bearing 
the whole weight of struggle, as unequal as men have ever under- 
taken, was the theme of admiration even to his enemies. The 
rock in the ocean, " tranquil amid raging billows," was the 
favorite emblem by which his friends expressed their sense of his 
firmness. . . . 

His intellectual faculties were various, and of the highest order. 
He had the exact, practical, and combining qualities which make 
the great commander; and his friends claimed that in military 
genius he was second to no captain in Europe. This was, no 
doubt, an exaggeration of partial attachment, but it is certain that 
the Emperor Charles had an exalted opinion of his capacity 
for the field. His fortification of Philippeville and Charlemont, in 
the face of the enemy ; his passage of the Meuse in Alva's sight ; 
his unfortunate but well-ordered campaign against that general ; 
his sublime plan of relief, projected and successfully directed at 
last from his sick-bed, for the besieged city of Leyden, — will 
always remain monuments of his practical military skill. 

Of the soldier's great virtues — constancy in disaster, devotion 
to duty, hopefulness in defeat — no man ever possessed a larger 
share. He arrived, through a series of reverses, at a perfect 
victory. He planted a free commonwealth under the very battery 
of the Inquisition, in defiance of the most powerful empire exist- 
ing. He was, therefore, a conqueror in the loftiest sense, for he 
conquered liberty and a national existence for a whole people. 
The contest was long, and he fell in the struggle ; but the victory 
was to the dead hero, not to the living monarch. It is to be 
remembered, too, that he always wrought with inferior instruments. 
His troops were usually mercenaries, who were but too apt to 
mutiny upon the eve of battle, while he was opposed by the most 
formidable veterans of Europe, commanded successively by the 
first captains of the age. That with no lieutenant of eminent 
valor or experience, save only his brother Louis, and with none at 
all after that chieftain's death, William of Orange should succeed 



96 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

in baffling the efforts of Alva, Requesens, Don John of Austria, 
and Alexander Farnese, — men whose names are among the most 
brilliant in the military annals of the world, — is in itself sufficient 
evidence of his warlike ability. At the period of his death he had 
reduced the number of obedient provinces to two ; only Artois 
and Hainault acknowledging Philip, while the other fifteen were 
in open revolt, the greater part having solemnly forsworn their 
sovereign. 

The supremacy of his political genius was entirely beyond ques- 
tion. He was the first statesman of the age. The quickness of 
his perception was only equalled by the caution which enabled 
him to mature the results of his observations. His knowledge 
of human nature was profound. He governed the passions and 
sentiments of a great nation as if they had been but the keys 
and chords of one vast instrument ; and his hand rarely failed to 
evoke harmony even out of the wildest storms. The turbulent 
city of Ghent, which could obey no other master, which even the 
haughty emperor could only crush without controlling, was ever 
responsive to the master-hand of Orange. His presence scared 
away Imbize and his bat-like crew, confounded the schemes of 
John Casimir, frustrated the wiles of Prince Chimay ; and, while 
he lived, Ghent was what it ought always to have remained, the 
bulwark, as it had been the cradle, of popular liberty. After his 
death it became its tomb. 

Ghent, saved thrice by the policy, the eloquence, the self- 
sacrifices of Orange, fell, within three months of his murder, into 
the hands of Parma. The loss of this most important city, fol- 
lowed in the next year by the downfall of Antwerp, sealed the fate 
of the Southern Netherlands. Had the prince lived, how different 
might have been the country's fate ! If seven provinces could 
dilate, in so brief a space, into the powerful commonwealth which 
the republic soon became, what might not have been achieved 
by the united seventeen? — a confederacy which would have united 
the adamantine vigor of the Batavian and Frisian races with the 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 97 

subtler, more delicate, and more graceful national elements in 
which the genius of the Frank, the Roman, and the Romanized 
Celt were so intimately blended. As long as the father of the 
country lived, such a union was possible. His power of managing 
men was so unquestionable, that there was always a hope, even in 
the darkest hour ; for men felt implicit reliance, as well on his 
intellectual resources as on his integrity. 

This power of dealing with his fellow-men he manifested in the 
various ways in which it has been usually exhibited by statesmen. 
He possessed a ready eloquence — sometimes impassioned, oftener 
argumentative, always rational. His influence over his audience 
was unexampled in the annals of that country or age ; yet he 
never condescended to flatter the people. He never followed the 
nation, but always led her in the path of duty and of honor, and 
was much more prone to rebuke the vices than to pander to the 
passions of his hearers. He never failed to administer ample 
chastisement to parsimony, to jealousy, to insubordination, to 
intolerance, to infidelity, wherever it was due ; nor feared to con- 
front the states or the people in their most angry hours, and to 
tell them the truth to their faces. This commanding position he 
alone could stand upon ; for his countrymen knew the generosity 
which had sacrificed his all for them, the self-denial which had 
eluded rather than sought political advancement, whether from 
king or people, and the untiring devotion which had consecrated 
a whole life to toil and danger in the cause of their emancipation. 
While, therefore, he was ever ready to rebuke, and always too 
honest to flatter, he at the same time possessed the eloquence 
which could convince or persuade. He knew how to reach both 
the mind and the heart of his hearers. His orations, whether 
extemporaneous or prepared ; his written messages to the States- 
General, to the provincial authorities, to the municipal bodies ; his 
private correspondence with men of all ranks, from emperors and 
kings down to secretaries, and even children, all show an easy 
flow of language, a fulness of thought, a power of expression rare 



98 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

in that age, a fund of historical allusion, a considerable power 
of imagination, a warmth of sentiment, a breadth of view, a 
directness of purpose, — a range of qualities, in short, which would 
in themselves have stamped him as one of the master-minds of 
his century, had there been no other monument to his memory 
than the remains of his spoken or written eloquence. The bulk 
of his performances in this department was prodigious. Not 
even Philip was more industrious in the cabinet. Not even 
Granvelle held a more facile pen. He wrote and spoke equally 
well in French, German, or Flemish ; and he possessed, besides, 
Spanish, Italian, Latin. The weight of his correspondence alone 
would have almost sufficed for the common industry of a lifetime ; 
and, although many volumes of his speeches and letters have 
been published, there remain in the various archives of the Neth- 
erlands and Germany many documents from his hand which will 
probably never see the light. If the capacity for unremitted 
intellectual labor in an honorable cause be the measure of human 
greatness, few minds could be compared to the " large composi- 
tion " of this man. The efforts made to destroy the Netherlands by 
the most laborious and pains-taking of tyrants were counteracted 
by the industry of the most indefatigable of patriots. 

Thus his eloquence, oral or written, gave him almost boundless 
power over his countrymen. He possessed, also, a rare percep- 
tion of human character, together with an iron memory which 
never lost a face, a place, or an event, once seen or known. He 
read the minds, even the faces, of men, like printed books. No 
man could overreach him, excepting only those to whom he gave 
his heart. He might be mistaken where he had confided, never 
where he had been distrustful or indifferent. He was deceived by 
Renneberg, by his brother-in-law Van den Berg, by the Duke of 
Anjou. Had it been possible for his brother Louis or his brother 
John to have proved false, he might have been deceived by them. 
He was never outwitted by Philip, or Granvelle, or Don John, or 
Alexander of Parma. Anna of Saxony was false to him, and 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 99 

entered into correspondence with the royal governors and with 
the king of Spain ; Charlotte of Bourbon, or Louisa de Coligny, 
might have done the same, had it been possible for their natures 
also to descend to such depths of guile. 

He possessed, too, that which to the heathen philosopher 
seemed the greatest good, — the sound mind in the sound body. 
His physical frame was after death found so perfect that a long 
life might have been in store for him, notwithstanding all which 
he had endured. The desperate illness of 1574, the frightful 
gunshot wound inflicted by Jaureguy in 1582, had left no traces. 
The physicians pronounced that his body presented an aspect of 
perfect health. His temperament was cheerful. At table, the 
pleasures of which, in moderation, were his only relaxation, he 
was always animated and merry ; and this jocoseness was partly 
natural, partly intentional. In the darkest hours of his country's 
trial he affected a serenity which he was far from feeling ; so that 
his apparent gayety at momentous epochs was even censured by 
dullards, who could not comprehend its philosophy, nor applaud 
the flippancy of William the Silent. 

He went through life bearing the load of a people's sorrows 
upon his shoulders, with a smiling face. Their name was the 
last word upon his lips, save the simple affirmative with which 
the soldier who had been battling for the right all his lifetime, 
commended his soul in dying " to his great Captain, Christ." The 
people were grateful and affectionate ; for they trusted the char- 
acter of their " Father William," and not all the clouds which 
calumny could collect ever dimmed to their eyes the radiance of 
that lofty mind to which they were accustomed, in their darkest 
calamnities, to look for light. As long as he lived, he was the 
guiding-star of a whole brave nation ; and when he died the little 
children cried in the streets. 



IOO FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



THE VISION OF M-IRZA. 

JOSEPH ADDISON. 
[From " The Spectator," No. 159, Saturday, Sept. i, 1711.] 

When I was at Grand Cairo, I picked up several Oriental manu- 
scripts, which I have still by me. Among others I met with one 
entitled " The Visions of Mirza," which I have read over with 
great pleasure. ' I intend to give it to the public when I have no 
other entertainment for them, and shall begin with the first vision, 
which I have translated word for word, as follows : — 

On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the custom 
of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having washed myself, 
and offered up my morning devotions, I ascended the high hills 
of Bagdat in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and 
prayer. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, 
1 fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life ; 
and, passing from one thought to another, Surely, said I, man is 
but a shadow, and life a dream. Whilst I was thus musing, I cast 
my eyes towards the summit of a rock that was not far from me, 
where I discovered one in the habit of a shepherd, with a little 
musical instrument in his hand. As I looked upon him, he applied 
it to his lips, and began to play upon it. The sound of it was 
exceedingly sweet, and wrought into a variety of tunes that were 
inexpressibly melodious, and altogether different from any thing I 
had ever heard. They put me in mind of those heavenly airs that 
are played to the departed souls of crood m en upon their first 
arrival in paradise, to wear out the impressions of the last agonies, 
and qualify them for the pleasures of that happy place. My heart 
melted away in secret raptures. 

I had been often told that the rock before me was the haunt of 
a genius, and that several had been entertained with music who 
had passed by it, but never heard that the musician had before 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. IOI 

made himself visible. When he had raised my thoughts by those 
transporting airs which he played, to taste the pleasures of his 
conversation, as I looked upon him like one astonished, he 
beckoned to me, and by the waving of his hand directed me to 
approach the place where he sat. I drew near with that reverence 
which is due to a superior nature ; and as my heart was entirely 
subdued by the captivating strains I had heard, I fell down at his 
feet and wept. The genius smiled upon me with a look of com- 
passion and affability that familiarized him to my imagination, and 
at once dispelled all the fears and apprehensions with which I 
approached him. He lifted me from the ground, and taking me 
by the hand, " Mirza," said he, " I have heard thee in thy solilo- 
quies ; follow me." 

He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and placing 
me on the top of it, " Cast thine eyes eastward," said he, " and 
tell me what thou seest." — " I see," said I, " a huge valley, and a 
prodigious tide of water rolling through it." — "The valley that 
thou seest," said he, " is the vale of misery, and the tide of water 
that thou seest is part of the great tide of eternity." — "What is 
the reason," said I, " that the tide I see rises out of a thick mist 
at one end, and again loses itself in a thick mist at the other?" 
— "What thou seest," said he, "is that portion of eternity which 
is called Time, measured out by the sun, and reaching from the 
beginning of the world to its consummation. Examine now," said 
he, " this sea that is bounded with darkness at both ends, and tell 
me what thou discoverest in it." — "I see a bridge," said I, 
"standing in the midst of the tide." — "The bridge thou seest," 
said he, "is human life; consider it attentively." Upon a more 
leisurely survey of it, I found that it consisted of threescore and 
ten entire arches, with several broken arches, which, added to 
those that were entire, made up the number to about a hundred. 
As I was counting the arches, the genius told me that this bridge 
consisted at first of a thousand arches, but that a great flood swept 
away the rest, and left the bridge in the ruinous condition I now 



102 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

beheld it. " But tell me further," said he, " what thou discoverest 
on it." — " I see multitudes of people passing over it," said I, "and 
a black cloud hanging on each end of it." As I looked more 
attentively, I saw several of the passengers dropping through the 
bridge into the great tide that flowed underneath it ; and upon 
further examination, perceived there were innumerable trap-doors 
that lay concealed in the bridge, which the passengers no sooner 
trod upon, but they fell through them into the tide, and immedi- 
ately disappeared. These hidden pitfalls were set very thick at 
the entrance of the bridge, so that throngs of people no sooner 
broke through the cloud, but many of them fell into them. They 
grew thinner towards the middle, but multiplied and lay closer 
together towards the end of the arches that were entire. 

There were, indeed, some persons, but their number was very 
small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on the broken 
arches, but fell through one after another, being quite tired and 
spent with so long a walk. 

I passed some time in the contemplation of this wonderful 
structure, and the great variety of objects which it presented. My 
heart was filled with a deep melancholy to see several dropping 
unexpectedly in the midst of mirth and jollity, and catching at 
every thing that, stood by them to save themselves. Some were 
looking up towards the heavens in a thoughtful posture, and, in 
the midst of a speculation, stumbled, and fell out of sight. Multi- 
tudes were very busy in the pursuit of bubbles that glittered in 
their eyes, and danced before them ; but often when they thought 
themselves within the reach of them, their footing failed, and 
down they sank. 

The genius seeing me indulge myself on this melancholy pros- 
pect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it. "Take thine 
eyes off the bridge," said he, " and tell me if thou yet seest any 
thing thou dost not comprehend." Upon looking up, "What 
mean," said I, " those great nights of birds that are perpetually 
hovering about the bridge, and settling upon it from time to time ? 



SELECTIONS EOR STUDY. 103 

I see vultures, harpies, ravens, cormorants ; and, among many 
other feathered creatures, several little winged boys, that perch in 
great numbers upon the middle arches." "These," said the 
genius, " are Envy, Avarice, Superstition, Despair, Love, with the 
like cares and passions that infest human life." 

I here fetched a deep sigh. "Alas," said I, "man was made 
in vain i how is he given away to misery and mortality 1 tortured 
in life, and swallowed up in death ! " The genius, being moved 
with compassion towards me, bade me quit so uncomfortable a 
prospect. "Look no more," said he, "on man in the first stage 
of his existence, in his setting out for eternity, but cast thine eye 
on that thick mist into which the tide bears the several genera- 
tions of mortals that fall into it." I directed my sight as I was 
ordered, and (whether or no the good genius strengthened it with 
any supernatural force, or dissipated part of the mist that was 
before too thick for the eye to penetrate) I saw the valley open- 
ing at the farther end, and spreading forth into an immense ocean, 
that had a huge rock of adamant running through the midst of it, 
and dividing it into two equal parts. The clouds still rested on 
one half of it, insomuch that I could discover nothing in it ; but 
the other appeared to me a vast ocean planted with innumerable 
islands that were covered with fruits and flowers, and interwoven 
with a thousand little shining seas that ran among them. I could 
see persons dressed in glorious habits, with garlands upon their 
heads, passing among the trees, lying down by the sides of foun- 
tains, or resting on beds of flowers ; and could hear a confused 
harmony of singing birds, falling waters, human voices, and musi- 
cal instruments. Gladness grew in me upon the discovery of so 
delightful a scene. I wished for the wings of an eagle that I 
might fly away to those happy seats ; but the genius told me there 
was no passage to them except through the gates of death that 
I saw opening every moment upon the bridge. "The islands," 
said he, " that lie so fresh and green before thee, and with which 
the whole face of the ocean appears spotted as far as thou canst 



104 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

see, are more in number than the sands on the seashore ; there 
are myriads of islands behind those which thou here discoverest, 
reaching farther than thine eye, or even thine imagination, can 
extend itself. These are the mansions of good men after death, 
who, according to the degree and kinds of virtue in which they 
excelled, are distributed among these several islands, which abound 
with pleasures of different kinds and degrees, suitable to the rel- 
ishes and perfections of those who are settled in them. Every 
island is a paradise accommodated to its respective inhabitants. 
Are not these, O Mirza ! habitations worth contending for ? Does 
life appear miserable, that gives thee opportunities of earning such 
a reward ? Is death to be feared, that will convey thee to so 
happy an existence ? Think not man was made in vain, who has 
such an eternity reserved for him." I gazed with inexpressible 
pleasure on these happy islands. At length, said I, " Show me 
now, I beseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under those dark 
clouds which cover the ocean on the other side of the rock of 
adamant." The genius making me no answer, I turned about to 
address myself to him a second time, but I found that he had left 
me. I then turned again to the vision which I had been so long 
contemplating ; but instead of the rolling tide, the arched bridge, 
and the happy islands, I saw nothing but the long, hollow valley 
of Bagdat, with oxen, sheep, and camels grazing upon the sides of 
it. 



BOB CRATCHIT'S CHRISTMAS DINNER. 

CHARLES DICKENS. 
[From the " Christmas Carol."] 

Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but 
poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are 
cheap, and make a goodly show for sixpence ; and she laid the 
cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 1 05 

brave in ribbons, while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into 
the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous 
shirt-collar (Bob's private property, conferred upon his son and 
heir in honor of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself 
so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashion- 
able parks. And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came 
tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the 
goose, and known it for their own ; and basking in luxurious 
thoughts of sage and onion, these young Cratchits danced about 
the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he 
(not proud, although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, 
until the slow potatoes bubbling up knocked loudly at the sauce- 
pan-lid to be let out and peeled. 

"What has ever got your precious father then?" said Mrs. 
Cratchit. " And your brother, Tiny Tim ! And Martha warn't as 
late last Christmas Day by half an hour ! " 

" Here's Martha, mother ! " said a girl, appearing as she 
spoke. 

" Here's Martha, mother ! " cried the two young Cratchits. 
" Hurrah ! There's such a goose, Martha ! " 

"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are !" said 
Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl 
and bonnet for her with officious zeal. 

"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," replied the girl ; 
"and had to clear away this morning, mother." 

" Well, never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. 
" Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord 
bless ye ! " 

" No, no ! There's father coming," cried the two young 
Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. " Hide, Martha, hide ! " 

So Martha hid herself; and in came little Bob, the father, with 
at least three feet of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging 
down before him ; and his threadbare clothes darned up and 
brushed, to look seasonable ; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, 



106 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs 
supported by an iron frame ! 

"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking 
round. 

" Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit. 

" Not coming ! " said Bob, with a sudden declension in his 
high spirits ; for he had been Tim's blood horse all the way from 
church, and had come home rampant. " Not coming upon 
Christmas Day ! " 

Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in 
joke, so she came out prematurely from behind the closet-door, 
and ran into his arms ; while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny 
Tim, and bore him off into the wash-house, that he might hear the 
pudding singing in the copper. 

" And how did little Tim behave ? " asked Mrs. Cratchit, when 
she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his 
daughter to his heart's content. 

" As good as gold," said Bob, " and better. Somehow he gets 
thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest 
things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped 
the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and 
it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day 
who made lame beggars walk and blind men see." 

Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled 
more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty. 

His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back 
came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his 
brother and sister to his stool beside the fire ; and while Bob, 
turning up his cuffs — as if, poor fellow, they were capable of being 
made more shabby — compounded some hot mixture in a jug with 
gin and lemons, and stirred it round and round and put it on 
the hob to simmer, Master Peter and the two ubiquitous young 
Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned 
in high procession. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 107 

Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the 
rarest of all birds, a feathered phenomenon to which a black swan 
was a matter of course ; and in truth it was something very like 
it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy ready beforehand 
in a little saucepan, hissing hot ; Master Peter mashed the potatoes 
with incredible vigor ; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple- 
sauce ; Martha dusted the hot plates ; Bob took Tiny Tim beside 
him in a tiny corner at the table ; the two young Cratchits set 
chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and, mounting 
guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest 
they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. 
At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was suc- 
ceeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all 
along the carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast ; but 
when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued 
forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even 
Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table 
with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried " Hurrah ! " 

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe 
there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, 
size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. 
Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient 
dinner for the whole family ; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with 
great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), 
they hadn't ate it all at last ! Yet every one had had enough ; 
and the youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and 
onion to the eyebrows ! But now, the plates being changed by 
Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone, — too nervous to 
bear witnesses, — to take the pudding up, and bring it in. 

Suppose it should not be done enough ! Suppose it should 
break in turning out ! Suppose somebody should have got over 
the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were merry 
with the goose, — a supposition at which the two young Cratchits 
became livid ! All sorts of horrors were supposed. 



108 FIRST STEPS IN ENGIISH CLASSICS. 

Hallo ! A great deal of steam ! The pudding was out of the 
copper. A smell like a washing-day ! That was the cloth. A 
smell like an eating-house and a pastry-cook's next door to each 
other, with a laundress's next door to that ! That was the pud- 
ding ! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered — flushed, but 
smiling proudly — with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, 
so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited 
brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top. 

Oh, a wonderful pudding ! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, 
that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. 
Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the 
weight was off her mind, she would confess she had her doubts 
about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say 
about it ; but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding 
for a large family. It would have been flat heresy to do so. Any 
Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing. 

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the 
hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug 
being tasted, and considered perfect? apples and oranges were 
put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. 
Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in what Bob 
Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one ; and at Bob Cratchit's 
elbow stood the family display of glass, — two tumblers and a 
custard-cup without a handle. 

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as 
golden goblets would have done ; and Bob served it out with 
beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and 
cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed : — 

"A merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us ! " 

Which all the family re-echoed. 

" God bless us every one ! " said Tiny Tim, the last of all. 

He sat very close to his father's side, upon his little stool. Bob 
held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and 
wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 109 

taken from him. Bob Cratchit told them how he had a situation 
in his eye for Master Peter, which would bring in, if obtained, full 
five-and-sixpence weekly. The two young Cratchits laughed tre- 
mendously at the idea of Peter's being a man of business ; and 
Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from between his 
collars, as if he were deliberating what particular investments he 
should favor when he came into the receipt of that bewildering 
income. Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner's, then 
told them what kind of work she had to do, and how many hours 
she worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow 
morning for a good long rest ; to-morrow being a holiday she 
passed at home. Also, how she had seen a countess and a lord 
some days before ; and how the lord " was much about as tall as 
Peter." At which Peter pulled up his collars so high that you 
couldn't have seen his head if you had been there. All this time 
the chestnuts and the jug went round and round ; and by-and-by 
they had a song, about a lost child travelling in the snow, from 
Tiny Tim, who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well 
indeed. 

There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a 
handsome family ; they were not well dressed ; their shoes were 
far from being waterproof; their clothes were scanty; and Peter 
might have known, and very likely did, the inside of a pawn- 
broker's. But they were happy, grateful, pleased with one another, 
and contented with the time ; and when they faded, and looked 
happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit's torch at part- 
ing, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny Tim, 
until the last. 



110 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



ABDICATION OF CHARLES THE FIFTH. 

WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. 
[From the " History of Philip II.," Vol. I.] 

Preparations were then made for conducting the ceremony of 
abdication with all the pomp and solemnity suited to so august 
an occasion. The great hall of the royal palace of Brussels was 
selected for the scene of it. The walls of the spacious apartment 
were hung with tapestry, and the floor was covered with rich 
carpeting. A scaffold was erected at one end of the room, to the 
height of six or seven steps. On it was placed a throne, or chair 
of state, for the Emperor, with other seats for Philip and for the 
great Flemish lords who were to attend the person of their sove- 
reign. Above the throne was suspended a gorgeous canopy, on 
which were emblazoned the arms of the ducal house of Burgundy. 
In front of the scaffolding, accommodations were provided for the 
deputies of the provinces, who were to be seated on benches 
arranged according to their respective rights of precedence. 

On the 25th of October, the day fixed for the ceremony, Charles 
the Fifth executed an instrument by which he ceded to his son the 
sovereignty of the Netherlands. Mass was then performed ; and 
the Emperor, accompanied by Philip and a numerous retinue, 
proceded in state to the great hall, where the deputies were 
already assembled. 

Charles was at this time in the fifty-sixth year of his age. His 
form was slightly bent, — but it was by disease more than by time, 
— and on his countenance might be traced the marks of anxiety 
and rough exposure ; yet it still wore that majesty of expression 
so conspicuous in his portraits by the inimitable pencil of Titian. 
His hair, once of a light color, approaching to yellow, had begun 
to turn before he was forty, and, as well as his beard, was now 
gray. His forehead was broad and expansive, his nose aquiline. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. Ill 

His blue eyes and fair complexion intimated his Teutonic descent. 
The only feature in his countenance decidedly bad was his lower 
jaw, protruding with its thick, heavy lip, so characteristic of the 
physiognomies of the Austrian dynasty. 

In stature he was about the middle height. His limbs were 
strongly knit, and once well formed, though now the extremities 
were sadly distorted by disease. The Emperor leaned for support 
on a staff with one hand, while with the other he rested on the 
arm of William of Orange, who, then young, was destined at a 
later day to become the most formidable enemy of his house. 
The grave demeanor of Charles was rendered still more impres- 
sive by his dress, — for he was in mourning for his mother, — and 
the sable hue of his attire was relieved only by a single ornament, 
the superb collar of the Golden Fleece, which hung from his neck. 

Behind the Emperor came Philip, the heir of his vast domin- 
ions. He was of a middle height, of much the same proportions 
as his father, whom he resembled also in his lineaments, except 
that those of the son wore a more sombre and perhaps a sinister 
expression ; while there was a reserve in his manner, in spite of 
his efforts to the contrary, as if he would shroud his thoughts from 
observation. The magnificence of his dress corresponded with 
his royal station, and formed a contrast to that of his father, who 
was quitting the pomp and grandeur of the world, on which the 
son was about to enter. 

Next to Philip came Mary, the Emperor's sister, formerly queen 
of Hungary. She had filled the post of Regent of the Low Coun- 
tries for nearly twenty years, and now welcomed the hour when 
she was to resign the burden of sovereignty to her nephew, and 
withdraw, like her imperial brother, into private life. Another 
sister of Charles, Eleanor, widow of the French king, Francis the 
First, also took part in these ceremonies, previous to her departure 
for Spain, whither she was to accompany the Emperor. 

After these members of the imperial family came the nobility 
of the Netherlands, the knights of the Golden Fleece, the royal 



112 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

counsellors, and the great officers of the household, all splendidly 
attired in their robes of state, and proudly displaying the insignia 
of their orders. When the Emperor had mounted his throne, 
with Philip on his right hand, the Regent Mary on his left, and 
the rest of his retinue disposed along the seats prepared for them 
on the platform, the president of the council of Flanders addressed 
the assembly. He briefly explained the object for which they had 
been summoned, and the motives which had induced their master 
to abdicate the throne ; and he concluded by requiring them, in 
their sovereign's name, to transfer their allegiance from himself to 
Philip, his son and rightful heir. 

x\fter a pause, Charles rose to address a few parting words to 
his subjects. He stood with apparent difficulty, and rested his 
right hand on the shoulder of the Prince of Orange, — intimating 
by this preference on so distinguished an occasion the high favor 
in which he held the young nobleman. In the other hand he held 
a paper containing some hints for his discourse, and occasionally 
cast his eyes on it to refresh his memory. He spoke in the 
French language. 

He was unwilling, he said, to part from his people without a 
few words from his own lips. It was now forty years since he had 
been intrusted with the sceptre of the Netherlands. He w T as soon 
after called to take charge of a still more extensive empire, both 
in Spain and in Germany, involving a heavy responsibility for one 
so young. He had, however, endeavored earnestly to do his duty 
to the best of his abilities. He had been ever mindful of the 
interests of the dear land of his birth, but, above all, of the great 
interests of Christianity. His first object had been to maintain 
these inviolate against the infidel. In this he had been thwarted, 
partly by the jealousy of neighboring powers, and partly by the 
factions of the heretical princes of Germany. 

In the performance of his .great work he had never consulted 
his ease. His expeditions, in war and in peace, to France, Eng- 
land, Germany, Italy, Spain, and Flanders, had amounted to no 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 113 

less than forty. Four times he had crossed the Spanish seas, and 
eight times the Mediterranean. He had shrunk from no toil while 
he had the strength to endure it ; but a cruel malady had deprived 
him of that strength. Conscious of his inability to discharge the 
duties of his station, he had long since come to the resolution to 
relinquish it. From this he had been diverted only by the situa- 
tion of his unfortunate parent and by the inexperience of his son. 
These objections no longer existed ; and he should not stand 
excused in the eye of Heaven or of the world if he should insist 
on still holding the reins of government when he was incapable 
of managing them, — when every year his incapacity must become 
more obvious. 

He begged them to believe that this, and no other motive, 
induced him to resign the sceptre which he had so long swayed. 
They had been to him dutiful and loving subjects, and such, he 
doubted not, they would prove to his successor. Above all things, 
he besought them to maintain the purity of the faith. If any one, 
in these licentious times, had admitted doubts into his bosom, let 
such doubts be extirpated at once. " I know well," he concluded, 
" that, in my long administration, I have fallen into many errors 
and committed some wrongs. But it was from ignorance ; and, if 
there be any here whom I have wronged, they will believe that it 
was not intended, and grant me their forgiveness." 

While the Emperor was speaking, a breathless silence pervaded 
the whole audience. Charles had ever been dear to the people 
of the Netherlands, — the land of his birth. They took a national 
pride in his achievements, and felt that his glory reflected a pecul- 
iar lustre on themselves. As they now gazed for the last time on 
that revered form, and listened to the parting admonitions from 
his lips, they were deeply affected, and not a dry eye was to be 
seen in the assembly. 

After a short interval, Charles, turning to Philip, who, in an 
attitude of deep respect, stood awaiting his commands, thus ad- 
dressed him : " If the vast possessions which are now bestowed 



114 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

on you had come by inheritance, there would be abundant cause 
for gratitude. How much more when they come as a free gift in 
the lifetime of your father ! But, however large the debt, I shall 
consider it all repaid if you only discharge your duty to your 
subjects. So rule over them that men shall commend and not 
censure me for the part I am now acting. Go on as you have 
begun. Fear God ; live justly ; respect the laws ; above all, 
cherish the interests of religion ; and may the Almighty bless you 
with a son to whom, when old and stricken with disease, you may 
be able to resign your kingdom with the same good will with 
which I now resign mine to you." 

As he ceased, Philip, much affected, would have thrown himself 
at his father's feet, assuring him of his intention to do all in his 
power to merit such goodness ; but Charles, raising his son, ten- 
derly embraced him, while the tears flowed fast down his cheeks. 
Every one, even the most stoical, was touched by this affecting 
scene; "and nothing," says one who was present, "was to be 
heard throughout the hall but sobs and ill-suppressed moans." 
Charles, exhausted by his efforts, and deadly pale, sank back upon 
his seat ; while, with feeble accents, he exclaimed, as he gazed 
on his people, " God bless you ! God bless you ! " 

After these emotions had somewhat subsided, Philip arose, and, 
delivering himself in French, briefly told the deputies of the regret 
which he felt at not being able to address them in their native 
language, and to assure them of the favor and high regard in 
which he held them. This would be done for him by the Bishop 
of Arras. 

This was Anthony Perennot, better known as Cardinal Gran- 
velle, son of the famous minister of Charles the Fifth, and destined 
himself to a still- higher celebrity as the minister of Philip the Sec- 
ond. In clear and fluent language, he gave the deputies the 
promise of their new sovereign to respect the laws and liberties 
of the nation ; invoking them, on his behalf, to aid him with their 
counsels, and, like royal vassals, to maintain the authority of the 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 115 

law in his dominions. After a suitable response from the deputies, 
filled with sentiments of regret for the loss of their late monarch, 
and with those of loyalty to their new one, the Regent Mary 
formally abdicated her authority, and the session closed. So 
ended a ceremony which, considering the importance of its con- 
sequences, the character of the actors, and the solemnity of the 
proceedings, is one of the most remarkable in history. That 
the crown of the monarch is lined with thorns, is a trite maxim ; 
and it requires no philosophy to teach us that happiness does not 
depend on station. Yet, numerous as are the instances of those 
who have waded to a throne through seas of blood, there are but 
few who, when they have once tasted the sweets of sovereignty, 
have been content to resign them ; still fewer who, when they 
have done so, have had the philosophy to conform to their change 
of condition, and not to repent it. Charles, as the event proved, 
was one of these few. 

On the sixteenth day of January, 1556, in the presence of such 
of the Spanish nobility as were at the court, he executed the deeds 
by which he ceded the sovereignty of Castile and Aragon, with 
their dependencies, to Philip. 

The last act that remained for him to perform was to resign the 
crown of Germany in favor of his brother Ferdinand. But this he 
consented to defer for some time longer, at the request of Ferdi- 
nand himself, who wished to prepare the minds of the electoral 
college for this unexpected transfer of the imperial sceptre. But, 
while Charles consented to retain for the present the title of 
Emperor, the real power and the burden of sovereignty would 
remain with Ferdinand. 

At the time of abdicating the throne of the Netherlands, Charles 
was still at war with France. He had endeavored to negotiate a 
permanent peace with that country ; and, although he failed in 
this, he had the satisfaction, on the 5th of February, 1556, to 
arrange a truce for five years, which left both powers in the pos- 
session of their respective conquests. In the existing state of 



Il6 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

these conquests, the truce was by no means favorable to Spain. 
But Charles would have made even larger concessions, rather 
than leave the legacy of a war to his less experienced successor. 

Having thus completed all his arrangements, by which the 
most powerful prince of Europe descended to the rank of a private 
gentleman, Charles had no longer reason to defer his departure ; 
and he proceeded to the place of embarkation. He was accom- 
panied by a train of Flemish courtiers, and by the foreign ambas- 
sadors, to the latter of whom he warmly commended the interests 
of his son. A fleet of fifty-six sail was riding at anchor in the 
port of Flushing, ready to transport him and his retinue to Spain. 
From the imperial household, consisting of seven hundred and 
sixty-two persons, he selected a hundred and fifty as his escort ; 
and accompanied by his sisters, after taking an affectionate farewell 
of Philip, whose affairs detained him in Flanders, on the 17th of 
September he sailed from the harbor of Flushing. 

The passage was a boisterous one ; and Charles, who suffered 
greatly from his old enemy the gout, landed, in a feeble state, at 
Laredo, in Biscay, on the 28th of the month. Scarcely had he left 
the vessel when a storm fell with fury on the fleet, and did some 
mischief to the shipping in the harbor. The pious Spaniard saw in 
this the finger of Providence, which had allowed no harm to the 
squadron till its royal freight had been brought safely to the shore. 

On landing, Charles complained, and with some reason, of the 
scanty preparations that had been made for him. Philip had 
written several times to his sister, the regent, ordering her to have 
every thing ready for the Emperor on his arrival. Joanna had 
accordingly issued her orders to that effect. But promptness and 
punctuality are not virtues of the Spaniard. Some apology may 
be found for their deficiency in the present instance ; as Charles 
himself had so often postponed his departure from the Low 
Countries, that, when he did come, the people were, in a manner, 
taken by surprise. That the neglect was not intentional, is evident 
from their subsequent conduct. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 1 17 

Charles, whose weakness compelled him to be borne in a litter, 
was greeted everywhere on the road like a sovereign returning to 
his dominions. At Burgos, which he entered amidst the ringing 
of bells and a general illumination of the town, he passed three 
days, experiencing the hospitalities of the great constable, and 
receiving the homage of the Northern lords, as well as of the 
people, who thronged the route by which he was to pass. At 
Torquemada, among those who came to pay their respects to their 
former master was Gasca, the good president of Peru. He had 
been sent to America to suppress the insurrection of Gonzalo 
Pizarro, and restore tranquillity to the country. In the execution 
of this delicate mission he succeeded so well that the Emperor, 
on his return, had raised him to the see of Plasencia ; and the 
excellent man now lived in his diocese, where, in the peaceful dis- 
charge of his episcopal functions, he probably enjoyed far greater 
contentment than he could have derived from the dazzling but 
difficult post of an American viceroy. 

From Torquemada, Charles slowly proceeded to Valladolid, 
where his daughter, the Regent Joanna, was then holding her 
court. Preparations were made for receiving him in a manner 
suited to his former rank. But Charles positively declined these 
honors, reserving them for his two sisters, the queens of France 
and Hungary, who accordingly made their entrance into the 
capital in great state, on the day following that on which their 
royal brother had entered it with the simplicity of a private 
citizen. 

He remained here some days, in order to recover from the 
fatigue of his journey ; and although he took no part in the fes- 
tivities of the court, he gave audience to his ancient ministers, 
and to such of the Castilian grandees as were eager to render him 
their obeisance. At the court he had also the opportunity of 
seeing his grandson Carlos, the heir of the monarchy ; and his 
quick eye, it is said, in this short time saw enough in the prince's 
deportment to fill him with ominous forebodings. 



Il8 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Charles prolonged his stay fourteen days in Valladolid, during 
which time his health was much benefited by the purity and the 
dryness of the atmosphere. On his departure, his royal sisters 
would have borne him company, and even have fixed their perma- 
nent residence near his own. But to this he would not consent ; 
and taking a tender farewell of every member of his family, — as 
one who was never to behold them again, — he resumed his jour- 
ney. He took with him a number of followers, mostly menials, to 
wait on his person. 

The place he had chosen for his retreat was the monastery of 
Yuste, in the province of Estremadura, not many miles from 
Plasencia. On his way thither he halted near three months at 
Jarandilla, the residence of the Count of Oropesa, waiting there 
for the completion of some repairs that were going on in the 
monastery, as well as for the remittance of a considerable sum of 
money, which he was daily expecting. This he required chiefly 
to discharge the arrears due to some of his old retainers ; and the 
failure of the remittance has brought some obloquy on Philip, 
who could so soon show himself unmindful of his obligations to 
his father. But the blame should rather be charged on Philip's 
ministers than on Philip, absent as he was at that time from the 
country, and incapable of taking personal cognizance of the matter. 
Punctuality in his pecuniary engagements was a virtue to which 
neither Charles nor Philip — the masters of the Indies — could at 
any time lay claim. But the imputation of parsimony, or even 
indifference, on the part of the latter, in his relations with his 
father, is fully disproved by the subsequent history of that monarch 
at the convent of Yuste. 

This place had attracted his eye many years before, when on 
a visit to that part of the country, and he had marked it for his 
future residence. The convent was tenanted by monks of the 
strictest order of St. Jerome. But, however strict in their monastic 
rule, the good fathers showed much taste in the selection of their 
ground, as well as in the embellishment of it. It lay in a wild, 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 1 19 

romantic country, embosomed among hills that stretch along the 
northern confines of Estremadura. The building, which was of 
great antiquity, had been surrounded by its inmates with cultivated 
gardens, and with groves of orange, lemon, and myrtle, whose 
fragrance was tempered by the refreshing coolness of the waters 
that gushed forth in abundance from the rocky sides of the hills. 
It was a delicious retreat ; and by its calm seclusion, and the 
character of its scenery, was well suited to withdraw the mind 
from the turmoil of the world, and dispose it to serious meditation. 
Here the monarch, after a life of restless ambition, proposed to 
spend the brief remainder of his days, and dedicate it to the 
salvation of his soul. He could not, however, as the event 
proved, close his heart against all sympathy with mankind, nor 
refuse to take some part in the great questions which then agitated 
the world. Charles was not master of that ignoble philosophy 
which enabled Diocletian to turn with contentment from the cares 
of an empire to those of a cabbage-garden. In this retirement 
we must now leave the royal recluse, while we follow the opening 
career of the prince whose reign is the subject of the present 
history. 



THE FAMOUS TRIAL OF WARREN HASTINGS. 

LORD MACAULAY. 
[From the Essay on Warren Hastings.] 

In the mean time the preparations for the trial had proceeded 
rapidly, and on the 13th of February, 1788, the sittings of the 
court commenced. There have been spectacles more dazzling 
to the eye, more gorgeous with jewelery and cloth-of-gold, more 
attractive to grown-up children, than that which was then exhib- 
ited at Westminster ; but perhaps there never was a spectacle so 
well calculated to strike a highly cultivated, a reflecting, an ima- 
ginative mind. All the various kinds of interest which belong to 



120 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

the near and to the distant, to the present and to the past, were 
collected on one spot and in one hour. All the talents and all 
the accomplishments which are developed by liberty and civiliza- 
tion were now displayed, with every advantage that could be 
derived both from co-operation and from contrast. Every step in 
the proceedings carried the mind either backward, through many 
troubled centuries, to the days when the foundations of our Con- 
stitution were laid ; or far away, over boundless seas and deserts, 
to dusky nations living under strange stars, worshipping strange 
gods, and writing strange characters from right to left. The High 
Court of Parliament was to sit, according to forms handed down 
from the days of the Plantagenets, on an Englishman accused of 
exercising tyranny over the lord of the holy city of Benares and 
over the ladies of the princely house of Oude. 

The place was worthy of such a trial. It was the great hall of 
William Rufus, — the hall which had resounded with acclamations 
at the inauguration of thirty kings, the hall which had witnessed 
the just sentence of Bacon and the just absolution of Somers, the 
hall where the eloquence of Strafford had for a moment awed and 
melted a victorious party inflamed with just resentment, the hall 
where Charles had confronted the High Court of Justice with the 
placid courage which has half redeemed his fame. Neither mili- 
tary nor civil pomp was wanting. The avenues were lined with 
grenadiers. The streets were kept clear by cavalry. The peers, 
robed in gold and ermine, were marshalled by the heralds under 
Garter King-at-arms. The judges, in their vestments of state, 
attended to give advice on points of law. Near a hundred and 
seventy lords, three-fourths of the Upper House as the Upper 
House then was, walked in solemn order from their usual place of 
assembling to the tribunal. The junior baron present led the way, 
Lord Heathfield, recently ennobled for his memorable defence of 
Gibraltar against the fleets and armies of France and Spain. The 
long procession was closed by the Duke of Norfolk, earl marshal 
of the realm, by the great dignitaries, and by the brothers and sons 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 121 

of the King. Last of all came the Prince of Wales, conspicuous 
by his fine person and noble bearing. The gray old walls were 
hung with scarlet. The long galleries were crowded by an audience 
such as has rarely excited the fears or the emulation of an orator. 
There were gathered together, from all parts of a great, free, en- 
lightened, and prosperous empire, grace and female loveliness, wit 
and learning, the representatives of every science and of every art. 
There were seated round the Queen the fair-haired young daugh- 
ters of the house of Brunswick. There the ambassadors of great 
kings and commonwealths gazed with admiration on a spectacle 
which no other country in the world could present. There Siddons, 
in the prime of her majestic beauty, looked with emotion on a 
scene surpassing all the imitations of the stage. There the his- 
torian of the Roman Empire thought of the days when Cicero 
pleaded the cause of Sicily against Verres, and when, before a 
senate which still retained some show of freedom, Tacitus thun- 
dered against the oppressor of Africa. There were seen, side by 
side, the greatest painter and the greatest scholar of the age. The 
spectacle had lured Reynolds from that easel which has preserved 
to us the thoughtful foreheads of so many writers and statesmen, 
and the sweet smiles of so many noble matrons. It had induced 
Parr to suspend his labors in that dark and profound mine from 
which he had extracted a vast treasure of erudition. There were 
the members of that brilliant society which quoted, criticised, and 
exchanged repartees under the rich peacock hangings of Mrs. 
Montagu. And there the ladies whose lips, more persuasive than 
those of Fox himself, had carried the Westminster election against 
palace and treasury, shone round Georgiana, Duchess of Devon- 
shire. 

The sergeants made proclamation. Hastings advanced to the 
bar, and bent his knee. The culprit was, indeed, not unworthy of 
that great presence. He had ruled an extensive and populous 
country, had made laws and treaties, had sent forth armies, had 
set up and pulled down princes ; and in his high place he had so 



122 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

borne himself that all had feared him, that most had loved him, 
and that hatred itself could deny him no title to glory except virtue. 
He looked like a great man, and not like a bad man. A person 
small and emaciated, yet deriving dignity from a carriage which, 
while it indicated deference to the court, indicated also habitual 
self-possession and self-respect, a high and intellectual forehead, 
a brow pensive but not gloomy, a mouth of inflexible decision, a 
face pale and worn, but serene, on which was written, as legibly as 
under the picture in the council-chamber at Calcutta, Mens oequa 
in arduis, — such was the aspect with which the great proconsul 
presented himself to his judges. 

His counsel accompanied him, — men all of whom were after- 
wards raised by their talents and learning to the highest posts in 
their profession. 

But neither the culprit nor his advocates attracted so much 
notice as the accusers. In the midst of the blaze of red drapery 
a space had been fitted up with green benches and tables for the 
Commons. The managers, with Burke at their head, appeared in 
full dress. The collectors of gossip did not fail to remark that 
even Fox, generally so regardless of his appearance, had paid to 
the illustrious tribunal the compliment of wearing a bag and sword. 
Pitt had refused to be one of the conductors of the impeachment, 
and his commanding, copious, and sonorous eloquence was want- 
ing to that great muster of various talents. Age and blindness 
had unfitted Lord North for the duties of a public prosecutor ; 
and his friends were left without the help of his excellent sense, 
his tact, and his urbanity. But in spite of the absence of these 
two distinguished members of the Lower House, the box in which 
the managers stood contained an array of speakers such as per- 
haps had not appeared together since the great age of Athenian 
eloquence. There were Fox and Sheridan, the English Demos- 
thenes and the English Hyperides. There was Burke, ignorant 
indeed, or negligent, of the art of adapting his reasonings and his 
style to the capacity and taste of his hearers, but in amplitude 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 1 23 

of comprehension and richness of imagination superior to every 
orator, ancient or modern. There, with eyes reverentially fixed 
on Burke, appeared the finest gentleman of the age, his form 
developed by every manly exercise, his face beaming with intelli- 
gence and spirit, — the ingenious, the chivalrous, the high-souled 
Windham. Nor, though surrounded by such men, did the young- 
est manager pass unnoticed. At an age when most of those who 
distinguish themselves in life are still contending for prizes and 
fellowships at college, he had won for himself a conspicuous place 
in Parliament. No advantage of fortune or connection was want- 
ing that could set off to the height his splendid talents and his 
unblemished honor. The charges and the answers of Hastings 
were first read. The ceremony occupied two whole days, and 
was rendered less tedious than it would otherwise have been by 
the silver voice and just emphasis of Cowper, the clerk of the 
court, a near relation of the amiable poet. On the third day 
Burke rose. Four sittings were occupied by his opening speech, 
which was intended to be a general introduction to all the charges. 
With an exuberance of thought and a splendor of diction which 
more than satisfied the highly raised expectation of the audience, 
he described the character and institutions of the natives of India, 
recounted the circumstances in which the Asiatic empire of Britain 
had originated, and set forth the constitution of the company and 
of the English presidencies. Having thus attempted to communi- 
cate to his hearers an idea of Eastern society as vivid as that which 
existed in his own mind, he proceeded to arraign the administra- 
tion of Hastings as systematically conducted in defiance of morality 
and public law. The energy and pathos of the great orator ex- 
torted expressions of unwonted admiration from the stern and 
hostile chancellor, and for a moment seemed to pierce even the 
resolute heart of the defendant. The ladies in the galleries, unac- 
customed to such displays of eloquence, excited by the solemnity 
of the occasion, and perhaps not unwilling to display their taste 
and sensibility, were in a state of uncontrollable emotion. Hand- 



124 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

kerchiefs were pulled out, smelling-bottles were handed round, 
hysterical sobs and screams were heard, and Mrs. Sheridan was 
carried out in a fit. At length the orator concluded. Raising his 
voice till the old arches of Irish oak resounded, " Therefore," said 
he, " hath it with all confidence been ordered by the Commons of 
Great Britain, that I impeach Warren Hastings of high crimes 
and misdemeanors. I impeach him in the name of the Commons' 
House of Parliament, whose trust he has betrayed. I impeach him 
in the name of the English nation, whose ancient honor he has 
sullied. I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose 
rights he has trodden under foot, and whose country he has turned 
into a desert. Lastly, in the name of human nature itself, in the 
name of both sexes, in the name of every age, in the name of 
every rank, I impeach the common enemy and oppressor of all i " 

When the deep murmur of various emotions had subsided, Mr. 
Fox rose to address the Lords respecting the course of proceeding 
to be followed. The wish of the accusers was that the court 
would bring to a close the investigation of the first charge before 
the second was opened. The wish of Hastings, and of his counsel, 
was that the managers should open all the charges, and produce 
all the evidence for the prosecution, before the defence began. 
The Lords retired to their own House to consider the question. 
The division showed which way the inclination of the tribunal 
leaned. A majority of near three to one decided in favor of the 
course for which Hastings contended. 

When the court sat again, Mr. Fox, assisted by Mr. Grey, 
opened the charge respecting Cheyte Sing, and several days were 
spent in reading papers, and hearing witnesses. The next article 
was that relating to the Princesses of Oude. The conduct of this 
part of the case was intrusted to Sheridan. The curiosity of the 
public to hear him was unbounded. His sparkling and highly 
finished declamation lasted two days, but the hall was crowded 
to suffocation during the whole time. It was said that fifty guineas 
had been paid for a single ticket. 



SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 1 25 

June was now far advanced. The session could not last much 
longer, and the progress which had been made in the impeach- 
ment was not very satisfactory. There were twenty charges. On 
two only of these had even the case for the prosecution been heard, 
and it was now a year since Hastings had been admitted to bail. 

The interest taken by the public in the trial was great when the 
court began to sit, and rose to the height when Sheridan spoke on 
the charge relating to the Begums. From that time the excite- 
ment went down fast. The spectacle had lost the attraction of 
novelty. The great displays of rhetoric were over. 



WRITTEN EXERCISES. 

Write a biographical sketch of the following authors, 

one or more selections from whose works we have read : — 

1. John Lothrop Motley. 2. Charles Dickens. 3. William 

HlCKLING PRESCOTT. 



ADDITIONAL PROSE SELECTIONS FOR STUDY. 

Bulwer's Siege of Granada ; Wirt's Blind Preacher ; 
Dickens's Death of Little Paul Dombey (Dombey and Son, 
chap, xvi.), The Tempest (David Copperfield, chap, lv.), 
Death of Little Nell (Old Curiosity Shop, chaps, lxxi., 
lxxii.) ; Motley's Abdication of Charles V. (Dutch Repub- 
lic, vol. i.), Sir Philip Sidney (United Netherlands, vols. i. 
and ii.), Battle of Ivry (Netherlands, vol. iii.) ; Prescott's 
Battle of Lepanto (Philip II.), Last Triumph of the Inca 
(Conquest of Peru) ; Bancroft's description of the battle 
of Bunker Hill ; Cooper's Battle between the Ariel and 
the Alacrity (Pilot). 



126 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER VI. 

OUTLINE COURSE OF STUDY IN ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

" It is better to have a thorough acquaintance with one writer's works, than a 
superficial knowledge of the writings of many authors." — Arthur Gilman. 

" There is a growing conviction that much time is wasted in the classroom by 
attempting to learn about too many authors." — Trujvian J. Backus. 

" The number of authors is of very little consequence in comparison with the 
thoroughness and completeness of the work done." — H. H. Morgan. 

GENERAL PLAN OF STUDY. 

After the pupil has been drilled by the study of a 
number of simple prose and poetical selections, and is 
prepared to enter upon the study of an author in detail, 
some general plan should be adopted by the teacher in 
order to properly balance his work. In mapping out a 
proposed course of study, we submit the following general 
plan : — 

I. A course of study based upon the study of the texts of 

a few representative authors. 
II. Collateral study. 

III. Manual study. 

IV. Essays on general topics. 
V. Essays on special topics. 

VI. Supplementary reading. 



OUTLINE COURSE OF STUDY. 127 



I. — REPRESENTATIVE AUTHORS. 

The authors who have been selected as representatives 
of our literature are : — 

1. Longfellow. rx. Holmes. 

11. Irving. x. Scott. 

hi. Whittier. xi. Tennyson. 

iv. Goldsmith. xil Addison. 

v. Bryant. xiii. Byron, 

vl Gray. xiv. Cowper. 

vii. Hawthorne. xv. Shakspeare. 

viii. Burns. xvi. Milton. 

Authors for Additional Study. 

xvii. Wordsworth. xxl Spenser. 

xviil Bacon. xxii. Chaucer. 

xix. Pope. xxiii. Dickens. 

xx. Dryden. xxiv. Lowell. 

xxv. Macaulay. 

There are several reasons why these authors have been 
chosen as the basis of a systematic course of instruction 
in English literature. 

First, they are all English classic authors. 

Secondly, they represent every period in the history of 
our literature. 

Thirdly, they are most suitable and profitable for class- 
room purposes. 

The order in which these authors have been arranged 
is somewhat arbitrary. It is generally admitted that the 
less difficult standard authors should be studied first. 
Beginning with Longfellow, Irving, and Whittier, the 
student is better prepared to appreciate the worth of 



128 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Burns, Addison, and Goldsmith. Milton and Shakspeare 
will remain closed books to him who has not been well 
drilled in the less difficult authors. 1 

It is not, of course, necessary that this or any other 
particular order should be rigidly followed. The arrange- 
ment in this book is such that the several authors may be 
taken up in any order that may be deemed best. The 
all-important point is to have a certain number of centres 
to work from, — a certain number of foundation-stones to 
our building, a certain number of pegs on which to hang 
up our literary work. 

The keynote to the whole is : — 

Study systematically the texts of a few standard authors ; 
that is, study autJwrs, — what they have written, and not 
about tJiem. 

All the rest of our work should be made subordinate 
to this. 

II. — COLLATERAL STUDY. 

In connection with the regular work on the representa- 
tive authors, some time may, now and then, be given to 
reading certain selections from authors whose writings 
cannot be studied in detail in the present course. For 
instance, we cannot afford to devote much time to Dry- 
den or Wordsworth in our formal course : yet, with an 
advanced class, time could be spared, perhaps, for " Alex- 

1 "We may begin with the earliest authors, and read in the historical order, 
tracing the progress of literature from antecedent to consequent ; or, inversely, we 
may begin with modern authors, and work from consequent to antecedent. The 
latter course seems to me to possess the important advantage of starting the pupil 
where the language, idioms, and, to a degree, the incidents are familiar, and of gradu- 
ally approaching the earlier and more difficult works. Nor can I see from personal 
experience that pupils reading in this order any less clearly comprehend the relations 
between the several epochs." — J. W. MacDonald. 



OUTLINE COURSE OF STUDY. 1 29 

ander's Feast," or " Intimations of Immortality." A few 
recitations devoted to the " Vicar of Wakefield," or selec- 
tions from Charles Dickens, will do much to relieve the 
monotony of every-day routine work. 

Examples. — 1. Dryden's Alexander's Feast. 2. Collins's Ode to Even- 
ing. 3. Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality. 4. Keats's Eve of St. 
Agnes. 5. Shelley's Skylark. 6. Selections from Pilgrim's Progress, Vicar 
of Wakefield, Robinson Crusoe, and Thomson's Seasons. 7. Selections 
from Dickens and Charles Lamb. 

III. — MANUAL STUDT. 

In addition to the study of a few representative authors, 
the pupil should have some acquaintance with the history 
of English literature as a whole, — its origin, growth, and 
gradual development. To this should be added a critical 
study of the various influences which have moulded the 
opinions and modified the literary career of the great 
writers of any particular period. 

In brief, the student should become more or less familiar 
with the story of English literature. " It is the story of 
those ' prophets, sages, and worthies ' of our nation, who, 
seeing more clearly than other men the truths of life, and 
what God meant the world to be, have striven in various 
forms — in poems, stories, plays, essays, sermons, and 
lively jests — to set forth the true ideal. The work of 
each has been his own, — shaped by his own individuality, 
tinged often by the circumstances of his own life, colored 
still more by the spirit and fashion of the age in which he 
lived ; but having running through it all the honest look- 
ing for what is right, and the endeavor to make others 
see it." ■ 

1 Anna Buckland's Story of English Literature. 



130 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

The student may thus become familiar with the leading 
points in the history of our literature by occasional lessons 
from some manual, by oral instruction, or by a combina- 
tion of both methods. Any one of the many excellent 
manuals will answer every purpose, with some help from 
the teacher in arranging the subjects, omitting unnecessary 
or unimportant details, and harmonizing the- whole by a 
series of topics specially adapted to the needs of each class. 

A text-book on the history of English literature will 
also prove useful as a work of reference, or a kind of com- 
mentary, to obtain facts concerning the life and times of 
minor authors, for dates, tables, historical data, and gen- 
eral information not otherwise easily obtained. 1 

Note. — For a list of the best text-books on English literature, 
and some suggestions on selecting the same, see BlaisdelFs " Study 
of the English Classics," p. 290. 

IV. — ESSAYS ON GENERAL TOPICS. 

There are many points of general interest in English 
literature which may be selected as the subjects of essays. 
These essays should be written by each member of the 

1 " The text-book amplified by the intelligent pupil, under the direction of the 
experienced teacher, becomes a means of exciting discussion, of giving life to the reci- 
tations, of stimulating thought in a most agreeable way, and of begetting enthusiasm 
for the study." — Gilman's First Steps in English Literature. 

" A text-book in English literature should not assume functions which do not 
belong to it. A text-book, we think, is needed. It is needed to furnish the pupil 
that which he cannot help himself to. It may group the authors so that their places 
in the line and their relations to each other can be seen by the pupil ; it may throw 
light upon the authors' times and surroundings, and note the great influences at 
work helping to make their writings what they are ; it may present critical estimates 
of the leading writers, by those competent to make them, provided it requires the 
pupil to accept these judgments only as he finds them borne out by the passages 
quoted or the writings referred to ; in all these ways and in other ways it may place 
the pupil on the best possible footing with those whose acquaintance it is his business 
as well as his pleasure to make." — Kellogg's Text-Book on English Literature. 



OUTLINE COURSE OF STUDY. 131 

class at the same time, and should be read and discussed 
on a given date. Instead of written essays, the same ob- 
ject may be accomplished by familiar talks or discussions. 
It is not expected, nor to be desired, that the young 
student should write an elaborate essay, or discuss pro- 
foundly these subjects; but one thing is sure, — that, with 
a little kindly advice and tact on the part of the teacher, 
very many important facts can be brought out by these 
general topics. 1 

Examples. — r. Anglo-Saxon literature and scholars. 2. Chaucer's place 
in English literature. 3. English reformers and martyrs. 4. English satire. 
5. English humorists. 6. Novelists of the eighteenth century; nineteenth 
century. 7. Best allegories in prose and poetry. 8. King Alfred and his 
writings. 9. Period of English literature between Chaucer and Spenser. 10. 
Rise and progress of the English drama. 11. The Saxon element of our 
language. 12. English lyric poetry. 13. Famous letter-writers. 14. The 
best sonnets. 15, Select English ballads. 16. The English Bible in English 
literature. 17. Some well-known hymns. 18. Women as contributors to 
English literature. 19. The best biographies in our literature. 20. Distin- 
guishing characteristics of the Elizabethan period of English literature. 

Illustration. 

Outline for Topic No. 18. — Twelve leading female writers ; the time 
in which they lived ; why they were famous. Who was Lady Montagu ? 
Lady Jane Grey? Hannah More, and her influence upon the times. Who 
was Fanny Burney? Maria Edgeworth? Mary Somerville ? Mary Russell 
Mitford? Who wrote "Jane Eyre"? The famous female novelists of to- 
day, English and American. Mrs. Jameson? Who was Mrs. Browning? 
Who was " George Eliot"? Mrs. Mulock-Craik ? Jean Ingelow? Mrs. II. B. 
Stowe? The leading female writers of America? 

1 " To teach the history of English literature, I take the time in the last year 
usually given to composition-writing. I assign to the class such topics as these : The 
Anglo-Saxons and their conquest of Britain, Introduction and spread of Christianity, 
Ca^dmon, Beowulf, Bede and his times, etc. The pupils prepare themselves by con- 
sulting histories to which they are referred, and at a regular hour, all books laid 
aside, write out what they have learned, thus producing the successive chapters of a 
history for themselves. This is usually the least alluring part of the study ; but with 
a little encouragement, and perhaps a good deal of allowance, all will do acceptably 
well, and some few even creditably." — J. W. MacDonald. 



H2 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



T. — ESSAYS ON SPECIAL TOPICS. 

In most of our schools, pupils are required to prepare 
and read before the class or school, at stated times, an 
essay or " composition " on some given subject. To the 
members of the class in English literature may be assigned 
at this time topics of a literary character which have a 
direct bearing upon the study. We give below a few 
subjects for illustration; others will readily suggest them- 
selves. 

Examples. — I. Something about Wycliffe and his Bible. 2. In his 
happy old age, Chaucer reads his exquisite story of Griselda to a group of 
friends. 3. Imaginary interview between Spenser and Raleigh. 4. Shak- 
speare reads a play before Queen Elizabeth. 5. Milton's visit to Galileo. 
6. The old miracle-plays and moralities. 7. Historical value of "Ivanhoe," 
" Kenilworth," etc. 8. Dr. Johnson at Mrs. Thrale's tea-table. 9. An even- 
ing with Goldsmith in his attic. 10. Goldsmith and his friends at the club. 
11. With Bunyan in prison at Bedford. 12. Charles Lamb and his friends. 
13. The best works of fiction I have ever read. 14. Shall I read novels? 
15. What I know of Dickens as a writer. 16. Some of my favorite books. 
17. How I spent a day at Abbotsford, with Sir Walter Scott; at Farring- 
ford, with Tennyson; at Sunnyside, with Irving; at Oak Knolls, with 
Whittier. 18. A stroll through London streets with Dickens, during which 
he points out some of his original characters. 19. What the "Jessamy 
Bride " told me about Goldsmith. 20. Famous books written in prison. 

Note. — For a list of topics, both general and special, see chap, xxiii. 



V.- SUPPLEMENTARY READING. 

It will add greatly to the interest and the profit of any 
course of study in English literature, to supplement the 
regular work by a judicious amount of additional or col- 
lateral reading. This supposes a practical knowledge of 
suitable books on the part of the teacher, and a taste for 
healthful reading on the part of the young student. 



OUTLINE COURSE OF STUDY. 1 33 

Various books have been suggested in the following 
Syllabus, which are well adapted to our purpose. Other 
works equally useful will suggest themselves to the 
thoughtful teacher. 

It is not necessary to read the whole of a book : certain 
parts which have a special bearing on the topic under 
consideration are sufficient. For instance, chap. xiii. of 
Boswell's Life of Dr. Johnson has an interesting account 
of Oliver Goldsmith ; two chapters in Fields's "Yesterdays 
with Authors " have delightful pen-pictures of Dickens and 
Hawthorne; Irving's "Visit to Abbotsford" will naturally 
be read in connection with one of Scott's novels. 

There are a few works, aside from formal text and 
reference books, easily found in most school and public 
libraries, and of special interest to the student who is dis- 
posed to supplement the work mapped out in this book by 
appropriate and suggestive reading. Among such works 
the following are recommended : Donald G. Mitchell's 
About Old Story-Tellers ; Kate Sanborn's Home Pictures 
of English Poets ; Morley's English Men of Letters 
Series, consisting of some forty brief biographies of as 
many great English authors, written by the most eminent 
scholars of our day ; Arvine's Cyclopaedia of Literary An- 
ecdotes ; Fields's Yesterdays with Authors ; Homes and 
Haunts of our (American) Elder Poets ; American Men 
of Letters Series, and Poets' Homes Series. While book 
catalogues and advertisements are so common, it is not 
necessary to refer in detail to popular and interesting 
biographies of the day, like Kennedy's monographs on 
Longfellow and Whittier, Froude's Carlyle, Trevelyan's 
Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay, and many others of a 
similar character. 



134 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

One caution is necessary : Do not refer to many books. 
Consult only a few and well-chosen books, or parts of 
works. Let such select parts bear directly on the special 
subject under consideration. 

VI. — SYLLABUS OF A COURSE IN ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

" The authors should be relatively few, and they should be representative. With 
our authors once decided upon, they should be grouped so as to bring together those 
who were contemporary, and we shall then be ready to state the influences at work 
in any era. When one has studied the representative authors of any period, the 
influences which affected the time in which they lived, and the influence which they 
exerted upon their own and subsequent times, he has properly studied literature/' — 
H. H. Morgan. 

The following course of study is intended to aid the 
student in mapping out his future work in English litera- 
ture. It can be easily abridged or extended to meet the 
requirements of any particular class. For instance, if 
only one term is given to the subject, it would be useless 
to attempt to study the text of Shakspeare, Milton, or 
Byron. Under these circumstances, it would be advisable 
to select only five or six representative authors, and study 
thoroughly one or more of their productions, devoting one 
recitation every week to reading about the other authors, 
writing essays, etc. If two terms are allowed for English 
literature, select ten authors, and arrange the rest of the 
work as before. 

Two important things must be kept in mind in plan- 
ning a course of study : first, the time in hours, and recita- 
tions allowed for the subject; and, secondly, the age and 
capabilities of the class. 



OUTLIXE COURSE OF STUDY. 135 



SYLLABUS. 

I. — HENRY W. LONGFELLOW, 1807-1882. 

1. Selections to Study. — Wreck of the Hesperus; Norman Baron; Village 

Blacksmith ; Beleaguered City; Goblet of Life ; Sir Humphrey Gilbert; 
Building of the Ship; The Light-house; Phantom Ship; Children's 
Hour; Fire of Drift-Wood. 

Note. — Tides of pieces printed in Italics indicate that the texts of such selections 
are given in this book. 

2. Collateral Study. — Dickens's Christmas Carol (English Classic Series). 

Selections from two of Dickens's novels. From David Copperfield: 
Ark at Yarmouth (chap. Hi.), Little Em'ly (last third of chap, xxi.j, 
The Tempest (chap. lv.). From Old Curiosity Shop : Death of the Little 
Scholar (chap, xxv.), The Old Sexton (chaps, liii. and liv.), Death and 
Burial of Little Nell (chaps, lxxi. and Ixxii.). 
8. Manual Study. — Three great writers of recent fiction: Charles Dickens, 
William M. Thackeray, George Eliot. 

4. Supplementary Beading. — Samuel Longfellow's Life of Henry W. Long- 

fellow. Austin's Longfellow: His Life, Works, and Friendships. 

5. Editions. — Evangeline, Courtship of Miles Standish, Hiawatha, Golden 

Legend, etc. (Riverside Literature Series). Select Poems (Miss Hodg- 
don's "Leaflet" Series). Longer Poems (Modern Classics Series 1 ). 

2. — WASHINGTON IRVING, 1783-1859. 

1. Selections to Study. — From The Sketch-Book : The Voyage; Christmas 

Eve ; Return of Rip Van Winkle ; Ichabod Crane in Search of a Szveet- 
heart; Rural Funerals; Mutability of Literature; The Widow and her 
Son ; The Broken Heart ; Westminster Abbey. 

2. Collateral Study. — Selections from Prescott; Selections from Motley (Miss 

Hodgdon's "Leaflet" edition). 

3. Manual Study. — American historians: Prescott, Motley, Bancroft. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — C. D. Warner's Life of Irving. 

5. Editions. — Selections from The Sketch-Book; Legend of Sleepy Hollow 

(English Classic Series 2 ) ; Six Selections from The Sketch-Book, edited 
by If. B. Sprague. 

1 A series of forty or more little volumes, including selections from the best English 
authors, issued in an inexpensive edition for school use, and sold for 40 cents each. 

2 A series of sixty or more little books in paper, including well-edited selections from 
English classic authors, and sold for 10 cents each. 



136 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

3.— JOHN G. WHITTIER, 1807-. 

1. Selections to Study. — Gift of Triiemhts ; Frost Spirit ; Lines on a Portrait ; 

Snow- Bound; Skipper Ireson's Ride; Trust; Three Bells; Eternal 
Goodness. 

2. Collateral Study. — Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography, Poor Richard's 

Almanac (Riverside Literature Series). 

3. Manual Study. — Benjamin Franklin. 

4. Supplementary Beading. — McMasters's Life of Benjamin Franklin. 

5. Editions. — Snow-Bound, and Among the Hills; Mabel Martin, and other 

Poems (Riverside Literature Series 1 ). Select Poems (Miss Hodgdon's 
"Leaflet" edition). Select Poems (Modern Classics edition). 

4. — OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 1728-1774. 

1. Selections to Study. — Deserted Village ; Traveller ; Selections from Vicar 

of Wakefield. 

2. Collateral Study. — Selections from Swift's Gulliver's Travels ; Selections 

from De Foe's Robinson Crusoe (Classics for Children edition 2 ). 

3. Manual Study. — First great writers of fiction: De Foe, Richardson, Swift, 

Fielding, Sterne, Smollett. Dr. Johnson. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — Irving's Life of Goldsmith; chap. xiii. of Boswell's 

Life of Dr. Johnson; Macaulay's Essays on Goldsmith and Dr. Johnson. 

5. Editions. — Deserted Village, and Traveller (Macmillan's English Classics). 

Select Poems (Rolfe's English Classics). Deserted Village, and Trav- 
eller; Vicar of Wakefield (abridged), (English Classic Series). 

6. -WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, 1794-1878. 

1. Selections to Study. — The White-footed Deer ; To a Water-Fowl ; Death 

of the Flowers; Thanatopsis; Green River; Evening Wind; Crowded 
Street; Autumn Woods; Fringed Gentian ; Summer Wind; The Past; 
Hymn to the North Star; Planting of the Apple-Tree. 

2. Collateral Study. — Edgar A. Poe's Raven, The Gold Bug ; Lowell's Vision 

of Sir Launfal. 

3. Manual Study. — Edgar A. Poe, N. P. Willis, Fitz-Greene Halleck, James 

Russell Lowell. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — John Bigelow's Life of Bryant; Symington's 

Sketch of Bryant. 

5. Editions. — Select Poems (English Classic Series). Select Poems (Miss 

Hodgdon's "Leaflet" edition). Alden's Studies in Bryant. 

1 A series of thirty or more little books, in paper, including selections from the best Ameri- 
can authors, averaging about seventy pages each, and sold for 15 cents each. 

2 A series of twenty or more volumes of the select works of standard authors. Price, from 
25 to 50 cents each. 



OUTLINE COURSE OE STUDY. 1 37 

6. — THOMAS GRAY, 1716-1771. 

1. Selections to Study. — Elegy in a Country Churchyard ; The Bard; Prog- 

ress of Poesy. 

2. Collateral Study. — Macaulay's Essay on Warren Hastings; Burke's Speech 

on American Taxation (abridged). (English Classic Series.) 

3. Manual Study. — Macaulay, Edmund Burke. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — Gosse's Life of Gray (English Men of Letters 

Series). 

5. Editions. — Select Poems (Rolfe's English Classics). Select Poems (Eng- 

lish Classic Series). Select Poems (Clarendon Press Series). 



7. — NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, 1804-1864. 

1. Selections to Study. — From the Twice-Told Tales: Little Annie's Ramble ; 

Gentle Boy ; Sister Years ; Edward Fane's Rosebud. From Mosses 
from an Old Manse: The Old House; A Select Party; Celestial Rail- 
road; Intelligence Office; Earth's Holocaust. From Snow Image and 
Twice-Told Tales : Snow Image ; Great Stone Face ; Canterbury Pil- 
grims ; Wives of the Dead ; Little Daffydowndilly. 

2. Collateral Study. — Ralph Waldo Emerson's poem on Monadnoc; essays 

on Behavior, from The Conduct of Life, and Books, from Society and 
Solitude. 

3. Manual Study. — James Fenimore Cooper, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Bayard 

Taylor, Henry Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — J. R. Lowell's Life of Hawthorne ; article in 

Fields's Yesterday with Authors. 

5. Editions. — True Stories from New-England History; Grandfather's Chair; 

Biographical Stories ; Tanglewood Tales (Riverside Literature Series). 
Twice-Told Tales (Modern Classics Series). 

8.— ROBERT BURNS, 1759-1796. 

1. Selections to Study. — Cotter's Satin-day Night ; To a Mouse; To a Moun- 

tain Daisy ; Banks of Doon ; Highland Mary. 

2. Collateral Study. — Collins's Ode to Evening; Shelley's Skylark; Keats's 

Eve of St. Agnes. 

3. Manual Study. — Collins, Shelley, Keats. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — Shairp's Life of Burns; Carlyle's Essay on 

Burns. 

5. Editions. — Select Poems (English Classic Series). Select Poems (Hud- 

son's English Authors). 



138 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

s 

9. — OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, 1809-. 

1. Selections to Study. — Last Leaf; My Aunt; Living Temple; Under the 

Violets; Chambered Nautilus; Old Ironsides; Stethoscope Song; Dea- 
con's Masterpiece ; Hymn of Trust ; Voyage of the Good Ship Union ; 
Union and Liberty. 

2. Collateral Study. — Daniel Webster's Bunker -Hill Monument Orations; 

Oration on Adams and Jefferson (English Classic Series). 

3. Manual Study. — Daniel Webster, John G. Saxe. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — Holmes's Sketch of Motley. 

0. Editions. — Select Poems (Miss Hodgdon's "Leaflet" edition). Favorite 

Poems (Modern Classics Series). Select Prose (Modern Classics 
Series). 

10.— SIR WALTER SCOTT, 1771-1832. 

1. Selections to Study. — Jeanie Deans pleading for her Sisters Life, from 

Heart of Mid Lothian; The Escape from the Cliffs, from The Antiquary. 
Selections from Ivanhoe, Talisman, Kenihvorth. 

2. Collateral Study. — Campbell's Battle of the Baltic, and Lochiel's Warning. 

Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality. 

3. Manual Study. — Thomas Campbell, William Wordsworth. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — Hutton's Life of Scott (English Men of Letters 

Series). Donald G. Mitchell's Old Story-Tellers. 

5. Editions. — Lady of the Lake; Marmion ; Lay of the Last Minstrel 

(Rolfe's English Classics). Lady of the Lake; Marmion (English 
Classic Series). Lady of the Lake ; Marmion ; Lay of the Last Minstrel 
(Globe Reading Series). Talisman; Quentin Durward; Monastery; 
Guy Mannering ; Ivanhoe (Classics for Children). 

11.— ALFRED TENNYSON, 1809-. 

1. Selections to Study. — Dora ; Lady Clare ; Lord of Burleigh ; In the Chil- 

dren 's Hospital ; Defence of Lncknoiv ; Ulysses; Sir Galahad; Enoch 
Arden ; Death of the Old Year; St. Agnes' Eve; Sea Dreams; Lady 
of Shalott; Margaret; Blackbird; Godiva; Lotus-Eaters; Ode on the 
Death of the Duke of Wellington. 

2. Collateral Study. — Select Poems from Mrs. Browning (English Classic 

Series) ; Select Poems from Robert Browning (Rolfe's English Classics). 

3. Manual Study. — Mrs. Browning, Robert Browning, Jean Ingelow. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — Fields's Yesterday with Authors. 

5. Editions. — Enoch Arden, and Lotus Eaters; Two Voices; Elaine; In 

Memoriam (English Classic Series). The Princess; Young People's 
Tennyson; Select Poems; Enoch Arden, and other Poems (Rolfe's 
English Classics). Select Poems (Modern Classics). 



OUTLINE COURSE OF STUDY. 1 39 

1 2.— JOSEPH ADD/SON, 1672-1719. 

1. Selections to Study. — From the Spectator: Vision of Mirza (No. 159); 

Sir Roger in the Country (No. 106); Sir Roger at Church (No. 112); 
Death of Sir Roger (No. 517); Sir Roger at Westminster Abbey (No. 
329); On the Use of Time (No. 93); Immortality (No. in); Laughter 
and Ridicule (No. 249) ; Tale of Marraton (No. 50) ; Dreams (No. 487) ; 
On the Idea of God (No. 531); Cheerfulness (No. 381); Time and 
Eternity (No. 575). 

2. Collateral Study. — Dryden's Alexander's Feast; selections from Pope's 

Essay on Man. 

3. Manual Study. — Dryden, Steele, Lady Montagu, Pope. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — Macaulay's Essay on Addison. 

5- Editions. — Sir Roger de Coverley Papers (English Classic Series). 
Essays from The Spectator (Hudson's English Classics). 

13.— LORD BYRON : 1788-1824. 

1. Selections to Study. — Prisoner of ' Chillon. Selections from Childe Harold: 

1. Good Night (Canto I.) ; 2. Lake Leman (Canto III., stanza 85) ; 3. 
Waterloo (Canto III., stanza 21); 4. Gibbon and Voltaire (Canto III., 
stanza 105); 5. Venice (Canto IV., stanza 1); 6. A Woman's Grace 
(Canto IV., stanza 99) ; 7. Time (Canto IV., stanza 130); 8. Gladiator 
(Canto IV., stanza 140); 9. Apostrophe to the Ocean (Canto IV., 
stanza 179). 

2. Collateral Study. — Coleridge's Ancient Mariner. 

3. Manual Study. — Coleridge, Robert Southey. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — Macaulay's Essay on Byron; Southey's Life of 

Nelson. 

5. Editions. — Childe Harold (Rolfe's English Classics). Childe Harold 

(Clarendon Press Series). Select Poems (Franklin Square Library). 

14. — WILLIAM COWPER, 1731-1800. 

1. Selections to Study. — On Receipt of my Mother's Picture ; John Gilpin ; 

Alexander Selkirk ; Religious Hymns. 

2. Collateral Study. — Selections from Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress; Selec- 

tions from Cowper's Letters. 

3. Manual Study. — John Bunyan. Great historians: Plume, Gibbon, Rob- 

ertson. 

4. Supplementary Reading. — Goldwin Smith's Life of Cowper; Macaulay's 

Essay on Bunyan. 

6. Editions. — The Task (English Classic Series). The Task (Clarendon 

Press Series). 



140 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

15. -WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, 1564-1616. 

1. Selections to Study. — (See chap, xxi.) See "Study of the English Clas- 

sics" (chap. xvi. p. 199). 

2. Collateral Study. — Selections from Marlowe's Dr. Faustus, and Ben Jon- 

son's Every Man in his own Humour; Chaucer's Prologue to Canterbury 
Tales (Clarendon Press Series). 

3. Manual Study. — Chaucer. Elizabethan dramatists : Marlowe, Ben Jonson, 

Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, Ford, Webster. 

4. Supplementary Beading. — Charles Lamb's Tales from Shakspeare, selected 

(English Classic Series). The same, nearly complete (Classics for 
Children). Mrs. Jameson's Characteristics of Shakspeare's Women. 
Hudson's Life, Art, and Characters of Shakspeare. 

16.— JOHN MILTON, 1608-1674. 

1. Selections to Study. — Lycidas ; Comus; L'Allegro; II Penseroso. 

2. Collateral Study. — Spenser's Prothalamion; Bacon's Essays on Studies, 

Death, Goodness, Cunning. 

3. Manual Study. — Lord Bacon, Edmund Spenser. Great theologians : Isaac 

Barrow, Jeremy Taylor, Tillotson, South, Fuller. 

4. Supplementary Beading. — Macaulay's Essay on Milton. 

5. Editions. — Paradise Lost (Books I. and II.), and Lycidas (Sprague's 

English Classics). Paradise Lost (Book I.) ; Lycidas ; L'Allegro ; II 
Penseroso ; Comus ; Samson Agonistes (Clarendon Press Series). The 
same poems (English Classic Series). 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 14] 



REPRESENTATIVE AUTHORS. 

" After the pupil has become familiar with the process, and can readily analyze 
the passages he reads with regard to the merit of the thought, the aptness of the 
expression, and the congruity of the parts, he may proceed to the eminent authors 
of our language, to whose writings a higher veneration is due. Here he would find 
it no longer necessary to follow step by step the process to which he had been 
trained ; but the merit of the thought and the force of the expression would be per- 
ceived by him at a glance, just as an eye accustomed to the machinery of watches 
perceives the ingenious construction and the exquisite workmanship of a chronometer, 
without separating the parts." — William Cullen Bryant. 



CHAPTER VII. 

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW (1807-1882). 

" He has composed poems which will live as long as the language in which they 
are written." — James Russell Lowell. 

" His poetry expresses a universal sentiment, in the simplest and most melodious 
manner." — George William Curtis. 

In the city of Cambridge, Mass., a few miles from 
Boston, lived one of America's most distinguished poets, 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. This famous author was 
born in Portland, Me., in 1807, and graduated at Bowdoin 
College in 1825, in the same class with Nathaniel Haw- 
thorne. Shortly after graduation, he was appointed pro- 
fessor of modern languages at Bowdoin College, and was 
allowed leave of absence to continue his studies in Europe. 
On his return, he entered upon the duties of his professor- 
ship, and in the mean time translated from the Spanish 
the "Coplas de Manrique," and furnished several articles 



142 



FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



for the " North-American Review." "Outre Mer" was 
his first original work, and was published in 1835. Ten 
years later, he was chosen professor of modern languages 
at Harvard College, and, before entering upon his duties, 
again went abroad, and was absent for two years. 

In 1 839 appeared 
his romance " Hy- 
perion," a book that 
is glowing with po- 
etic thought, and 
instinct with poetic 
expression. In the 
same year was pub- 
lished "Voices of 
the Night," a col- 
lection of his most 
widely known po- 
ems. He resigned 
his professorship 
in 1854, but con- 
tinued to reside at 
Cambridge. For 
over a half-century 
Longfellow was a 
most industrious 
contributor to American literature, and during this long 
period was universally recognized as one of the most 
popular of living poets. He died in 1882. 

It has been said that "the poetry of Longfellow fur- 
nishes, probably, the most signal proof of the benefits 
conferred by poets upon mankind. It is a gospel of good- 

1 From Longfellow's Prose Birthday Book, published by Ticknor & Company. 




HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 143 

will set to music. It has carried sweetness and light to 
thousands of homes. It is blended with our holiest affec- 
tions and our immortal hopes." 

Longfellow resided in the " Craigie House," Cambridge, 
a mansion famous as being the headquarters of Washing- 
ton during the Revolution. He was of medium height, 
well made, with no sign of age in figure or walk. His 
head and face were eminently poetic, his forehead broad, 
benignant, and full. The great charm of his face cen- 
tred in his eyes ; of an unclouded blue, deep set, under 
overhanging brows, they had an indescribable expression 
of thought and tenderness. Though seamed with many 
wrinkles, his face was rarely without the rosy hue of 
health, and appeared that of a much younger man, but for 
its frame of snow-white hair. Hair and whiskers were 
long, abundant, and wavy, and gave the poet the look of 
a patriarch. 



THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. 

Under a spreading chestnut-tree 

The village smithy stands : 
The smith, a mighty man is he, 

With large and sinewy hands ; 
And the muscles of his brawny arms 

Are strong as iron bands. 

His hair is crisp, and black, and long, 

His face is like the tan ; 
His brow is wet with honest sweat, 

He earns whate'er he can, 
And looks the whole world in the face, 

For he owes not any man. 



144 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Week in, week out, from morn till night, 

You can hear his bellows blow ; 
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, l S 

With measured beat and slow, 
Like a sexton ringing the village-bell, 

When the evening sun is low. 

And children coming home from school 

Look in at the open door ; 20 

They love to see the flaming forge, 
And hear the bellows roar, 

And catch the burning sparks that fly 
Like chaff from a threshing-floor. 

He goes on Sunday to the church, 2 5 

And sits among his boys ; 
He hears the parson pray and preach, 

He hears his daughter's voice, 
Singing in the village choir, 

And it makes his heart rejoice.. 3° 

It sounds to him like her mother's voice, , 

Singing in Paradise ! 
He needs must think of her once more, 

How in the grave she lies ; 
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 35 

A tear out of his eyes. 

Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, 

Onward through life he goes ; 
Each morning sees some task begin,, x 

Each evening sees it close ; 4° 

Something attempted, something done, 

Has earned a night's repose. 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 145 

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 

For the lesson thou hast taught ! 
Thus at the naming forge of life 45 

Our fortunes must be wrought ; 
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 

Each burning deed and thought. 



THE BELEAGUERED CITY. 

I have read, in some old, marvellous tale, 

Some legend strange and vague, 
That a midnight host of spectres pale 

Beleaguered the walls of Prague. 

Beside the Moldau's rushing stream, 5 

With the wan moon overhead, 
There stood, as in an awful dream, 

The army of the dead. 

White as a sea-fog landward bound, 

The spectral camp was seen ; IO 

And with a sorrowful, deep sound, 

The river flowed between. 

No other voice nor sound was there, 

No drum, nor sentry's pace : 
The mist-like banners clasped the air, *5 

As clouds with clouds embrace. 

But, when the old cathedral bell 

Proclaimed the morning prayer, 
The white pavilions rose and fell 

On the alarmed air. 2 ° 



146 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Down the broad valley fast and far 

The troubled army fled : 
Up rose the glorious morning star, 

The ghastly host was dead. 

I have read, in the marvellous heart of man, 2 5 

That strange and mystic scroll, 
That an army of phantoms vast and wan 

Beleaguer the human soul. 

Encamped beside Life's rushing stream, 

In Fancy's misty light, 3° 

Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam 
Portentous through the night. 

Upon its midnight battle-ground 

The spectral camp is seen ; 
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound, 35 

Flows the River of Life between. 

No other voice, ^ior sound is there, 

In the army of the grave ; 
No other challenge breaks the air 

But the rushing of Life's wave. 4° 

And when the solemn and deep church-bell 

Entreats the soul to pray, 
The midnight phantoms feel the spell, 

The shadows sweep away. * 

Down the broad Vale of Tears afar 45 

The spectral camp is fled ; 
Faith shineth as a morning star, 

Our ghastly fears are dead. 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 147 



THE GOBLET OF LIFE. 

Filled is Life's goblet to the brim ; 
And though my eyes with tears are dim, 
I see its sparkling bubbles swim, 
And chant a melancholy hymn 

With solemn voice and slow. 5 

No purple flowers, no garlands green, 
Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen, 
Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene, 
Like gleams of sunshine, flash between 

Thick leaves of mistletoe. 10 

This goblet, wrought with curious art, 
Is filled with waters that upstart 
When the deep fountains of the heart, 
By strong convulsions rent apart, 

Are running all to waste. J 5 

And as it mantling passes round, 
With fennel is it wreathed and crowned, 
Whose seed and foliage sun-imbrowned 
Are in its waters steeped and drowned, 

And give a bitter taste. 2 ° 

Above the lowly plants it towers, 
The fennel, with its yellow flowers, 
And in an earlier age than ours 
Was gifted with the wondrous powers 

Lost vision to restore. 2 5 

It gave new strength, and fearless mood ; 
And gladiators, fierce and rude, 
Mingled it in their daily food ; 
And he who battled and subdued, 

A wreath of fennel wore. 3° 



148 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS, 

Then in Life's goblet freely press 
The leaves that give it bitterness, 
Nor prize the colored waters less, 
For in thy darkness and distress 

New light and strength they give ! 35 

And he who has not learned to know 
How false its sparkling bubbles show, 
How bitter are the drops of woe 
With which its brim may overflow, — 

He has not learned to live. 4° 

The prayer of Ajax was for light ; 
Through all that dark and desperate fight, 
The blackness of that noonday night, 
He asked but the return of sight, 

To see his foeman's face. 45 

Let our unceasing, earnest prayer 
Be, too, for light, — for strength to bear 
Our portion of the weight of care 
That crushes into dumb despair 

One half the human race. 5° 

O suffering, sad humanity ! 

ye afflicted ones, who lie 
Steeped to the lips in misery, 
Longing, and yet afraid to die, 

Patient, though sorely tried ! 55 

1 pledge you in this cup of grief, 
Where floats the fennel's bitter leaf ! 
The Battle of our Life is brief, 

The alarm, — the struggle, — the relief, — 

Then sleep we side by side» 6o 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 149 



CHAPTER VIII. 

WASHINGTON IRVING, 1783-1859. 

" If he wishes to study a style which possesses the characteristic beauties of 
Addison's, its ease, simplicity, and elegance, with greater accuracy, point, and spirit, 
let him give his days and nights to the volumes of Irving." — Edward Everett's 
Advice to a Student. 

Washington Irving, one of the earliest and most popu- 
lar of American authors, and of whom Thackeray happily 
spoke as "the first ambassador whom the New World of 
letters sent to the Old," was born in New York City in 
1783. He received only a common-school education, 
leaving the schoolroom at sixteen, yet for many years 
afterward pursued a systematic course of reading of the 
standard authors, especially Chaucer, Spenser, and Bun- 
yan. In his boyhood days he seemed to have a natural 
talent for writing essays and stories. As he always de- 
tested mathematics, he often wrote compositions for his 
schoolmates, and they in turn worked out his problems for 
him. He studied law for a time, but, not being inclined 
to submit to the drudgery of a profession, preferred to 
employ himself in rambling excursions around Manhattan 
Island, by which he became familiar with the beautiful 
scenery which he afterward made famous by his pen. 
Thus he acquired that minute knowledge of various his- 
torical locations, curious traditions and legends, so beauti- 



150 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

fully made use of in his " Sketch-Book " and " History of 
New York." 

In 1804, being threatened with pulmonary disease, he 
sailed for Europe, and remained abroad for nearly two 
years. On his return, he undertook to resume his legal 
practice, but without success. In company with others, 
he began the publication of a serial called "Salmagundi." 

It was well conducted, and 
proved successful. In 1809 
he published his " Knicker- 
bocker's History of New 
York," "the most unique, 
perfectly rounded, and 
elaborately sustained bur- 
lesque in our literature." 
He conducted a magazine 
in Philadelphia for two 
years, to which he con- 
tributed articles afterward 
included in "The Sketch- 
Book." In 1 8 14 he served 
as an aide to Gov. Tomp- 
kins, and at the end of the war again went to Europe, 
where he continued to live for the next seventeen years. 
By the failure of his brother he lost all his property ; and, 
having been thus thrown upon his own resources, he de- 
voted himself to literature to earn a living. His "Sketch- 
Book" was published in 1819. By the personal influence 
of Sir Walter Scott it was republished in London, and at 
once established Irving's reputation as a great author. 

His next works were "Bracebridge Hall," published in 
1822, and "Tales of a Traveller" in 1824. Having been 




WASHINGTON IRVING. 



WA SHING TON IR VI NG. 1 5 I 

commissioned to make some translations from the Spanish, 
he took up his residence in Madrid. To this residence in 
Spain we are indebted for some of his most charming 
works, as, "Life of Columbus," "Conquest of Granada," 
"The Alhambra," "Mahomet and his Successors," and 
"Spanish Papers." He returned to America in 1832. 
During the next ten years were published "Astoria," "Ad- 
ventures of Captain Bonneville," and "Wolfert's Roost." 
In 1842, Irving was appointed minister to Spain. His 
"Life of Goldsmith" was published four years later, after 
his return home. His last and most carefully written work 
was the " Life of Washington," in five volumes. 

Irving's last years were spent at " Sunnyside," his 
delightful residence at Tarrytown on the Hudson, in the 
midst of the beautiful scenes which he has immortalized. 
^Irving died Nov. 28, 1859, the same year with Prescott 
the historian, and Macaulay. A friend who saw much of 
our author in his latter days thus describes him : " He 
had dark-gray eyes, a handsome straight nose which 
might perhaps be called large, a broad, high, full forehead, 
and a small mouth. I should call him of medium height, 
— about five feet and nine inches, — and inclined to be a 
trifle stout. His smile was exceedingly genial, lightening 
up his whole face, and rendering it very attractive ; while, 
if he were about to say any thing humorous, it would beam 
forth from his eyes even before his words were spoken." 

In one of his charming " Easy Chair " essays, George 
William Curtis says, "Irving was as quaint a figure as the 
Diedrich Knickerbocker in the preliminary advertisement 
of the History of New York. Thirty years ago he might 
have been seen on an autumnal afternoon, tripping with 
an elastic step along Broadway, with low quartered shoes 



152 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

neatly tied, and a Talma cloak, — a short garment like the 
cape of a coat. There was a chirping, cheery, old-school 
air in his appearance, which was undeniably Dutch, and 
most harmonious with the association of his writing. He 
seemed, indeed, to have stepped out of his own books; 
and the cordial grace and humor of his address, if he 
stopped for a passing chat, were delightfully characteris- 
tic. He was then our most famous man of letters, but he 
was simply free from all self-consciousness and assumption 
and dogmatism." 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 

[From " Christmas Eve " in The Sketch-Book. ] 

As we approached the house we heard the sound of music, 
and now and then a burst of laughter from one end of the build- 
ing. This, Bracebridge said, must proceed from the servants' hall, 
where a great deal of revelry was permitted, and even encouraged, 
by the Squire, throughout the twelve days of Christmas, provided 
every thing was done conformably to ancient usage. Here were 
kept up the old games of hoodman blind, shoe the wild mare, hot 
cockles, steal the white loaf, bob-apple, and snap-dragon ; the 
Yule clog and Christmas candle were regularly burned ; and the 
mistletoe, with its white berries, hung up to the imminent peril of 
all the pretty housemaids. 

So intent were the servants upon their sports, that we had to 
ring repeatedly before we could make ourselves heard. On our 
arrival being announced, the Squire came out to receive us, 
accompanied by his two other sons, — one a young officer in the 
army, home on leave of absence ; the other an Oxonian, just from 
the university. The Squire was a fine, healthy-looking old gentle- 
man, with silver hair curling lightly round an open, florid counte- 



WA SHING TON IR VI NG. 1 5 3 

nance ; in which the physiognomist, with the advantage like myself 
of a previous hint or two, might discover a singular mixture of 
whim and benevolence. 

The family meeting was warm and affectionate. As the evening 
was far advanced the Squire would not permit us to change our 
travelling dresses, but ushered us at once to the company, which 
was assembled in a large old-fashioned hall. It was composed of 
different branches of a numerous family connection, where there 
were the usual proportion of old uncles and aunts, comfortable 
married dames, superannuated spinsters, blooming country cousins, 
half-fledged striplings, and bright-eyed boarding-school hoidens. 
They were variously occupied : some at a round game of cards, 
others conversing around the fireplace ; at one end of the hall 
was a group of the young folks, some nearly grown up, others of a 
more tender and budding age, fully engrossed by a merry game ; 
and a profusion of wooden horses, penny trumpets, and tattered 
dolls, about the floor, showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, 
who, having frolicked through a happy day, had been carried off 
to slumber through a peaceful night. 

While the mutual greetings were going on between young 
Bracebridge and his relatives, I had time to scan the apartment. 
I have called it a hall, for so it had certainly been in old times, 
and the Squire had evidently endeavored to restore it to some- 
thing of its primitive state. Over the heavy projecting fireplace 
was suspended a picture of a warrior in armor, standing by a white 
horse, and on the opposite wall hung a helmet, buckler, and lance. 
At one end an enormous pair of antlers were inserted in the wall, 
the branches serving as hooks on which to suspend hats, whips, 
and spurs ; and in the corners of the apartment were fowling- 
pieces, fishing-rods, and other sporting implements. The furniture 
was of the cumbrous workmanship of former days ; though some 
articles of modern convenience had been added, and the oaken 
floor had been carpeted, so that the whole presented an odd 
mixture of parlor and hall. 



154 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

The grate had been removed from the wide, overwhelming fire- 
place, to make way for a fire of wood, in the midst of which was 
an enormous log glowing and blazing, and sending forth a vast 
volume of light and heat ; this I understood was the Yule clog 
which the Squire was particular in having brought in and illumined 
on a Christmas eve according to ancient custom. 

It was really delightful to see the old Squire seated in his 
hereditary elbow-chair by the hospitable fireside of his ancestors, 
and looking around him like the sun of a system/beaming warmth 
and gladness to every heart. Even the very dog that lay stretched 
at his feet, as he lazily shifted his position and yawned, would look 
fondly up in his master's face, wag his tail against the floor, and 
stretch himself again to sleep, confident of kindness and protec- 
tion. There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality 
which cannot be described, but is immediately felt, and puts the 
stranger at once at his ease. I had not been seated many minutes 
by the comfortable hearth of the worthy old cavalier, before I 
found myself as much at home as if I had been one of the family. 

Supper was announced shortly after our arrival. It was served 
up in a spacious oaken chamber, the panels of which shone with 
wax, and around which were several family portraits decorated 
with holly and ivy. Besides the accustomed lights, two great wax 
tapers, called Christmas candles, wreathed with green, were placed 
on a highly-polished buffet among the family plate. The table 
was abundantly spread with substantial fare ; but the Squire made 
his supper of frumenty, a dish made of wheat cakes boiled in milk 
with rich spices, being a standing dish in old times for Christmas 
eve. 

The supper had disposed every one to gayety, and an old 
harper was summoned from the servants' hall, where he had been 
strumming all the evening, and to all appearance comforting him- 
self with some of the Squire's home-brewed. He was a kind of 
hanger-on, I was told, of the establishment, and, though ostensibly 
a resident of the village, was oftener to be found in the Squire's 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 1 55 

kitchen than his own home : the old gentleman being fond of the 
sound of " harp in hall." 

The dance, like most dances after supper, was a merry one ; 
some of the older folks joined in it, and the Squire himself figured 
down several couple with a partner with whom, he affirmed, he 
had danced at every Christmas for nearly half a century. 

The party broke up for the night with the kind-hearted old 
custom of shaking hands. As I passed through the hall, on my 
way to my chamber, the dying embers of the Yule clog still sent 
forth a dusky glow ; and had it not been the season when " no 
spirit dares stir abroad," I should have been half tempted to steal 
from my room at midnight, and peep whether the fairies might 
not be at their revels about the hearth. 

My chamber was in the old part of the mansion, the ponderous 
furniture of which might have been fabricated in the days of the 
giants. The room was panelled with cornices of heavy carved 
work, in which flowers and grotesque faces were strangely inter- 
mingled, and a row of black-looking portraits stared mournfully at 
me from the walls. The bed was of rich, though faded, damask, 
with a lofty tester, and stood in a niche opposite a bow-window. 
I had scarcely got into bed, when a strain of music seemed to 
break forth in the air just below the window. I listened, and 
found it proceeded from a band, which I concluded to be the 
waits from some neighboring village. They went round the house, 
playing under the windows. I drew aside the curtains to hear 
them more distinctly. The moonbeams fell through the upper 
part of the casement, partially lighting up the antiquated apart- 
ments. The sounds as they receded became more soft and aerial, 
and seemed to accord with the quiet and moonlight. I listened and 
listened ; they became more and more tender and remote, and, as 
they gradually died away, my head sunk upon the pillow, and I fell 
asleep. 



156 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

RETURN OF RIP VAN WINKLE. 

f From " Rip Van Winkle," in The Sketch Book.] 

Rip is an indolent, good-natured fellow, living in a village on the Hudson, While 
shooting among the Kaatskill Mountains he meets with a mysterious party engaged 
in rolling ninepins, drinks deeply of the liquor they furnish him, and falls into a 
deep sleep which lasts twenty years, durfng which the Revolutionary War takes 
place. After awaking, Rip returns to the village, which he finds busied with an 
election. 

He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of 
strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing 
at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized 
for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very 
village was altered ; it was larger and more populous. There were 
rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those which 
had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names 
were over the doors, strange faces at the windows — every thing 
was strange. His mind now misgave him ; he began to doubt 
whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched. 
Surely this was his native village, which he had left but the day 
before. There stood the Kaatskill Mountains, there ran the silver 
Hudson at a distance, there was every hill and dale precisely as it 
had always been. Rip was sorely perplexed. "That flagon last 
night," thought he, "has addled my poor head sadly." 

It was with some difficulty that he found the w r ay to his own 
house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every 
moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found 
the house gone to decay — the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, 
and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog, that looked like 
Wolf, was skulking about it. Rip called him by name ; but the cur 
snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut 
indeed. " My very dog," sighed poor Rip, " has forgotten me ! " 

He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van 



IV A SHIXG TON IR VI XG. 1 5 7 

Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and 
apparently abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his con- 
nubial fears. He called loudly for his wife and children. The 
lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then all 
again was silence. 

He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the vil- 
lage inn ; but it, too, was gone. A large, rickety wooden building 
stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of them 
broken, and mended with old hats and petticoats ; and over the 
door was painted, "The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." 
Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch 
inn of yore, there now was reared a tall, naked pole, with some- 
thing on the top that looked like a red nightcap ; and from it 
was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of stars 
and stripes. All this was strange and incomprehensible. He 
recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, 
under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe ; but even 
this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed 
for one of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of 
a sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and under- 
neath was painted in large characters, " General Washington." 

There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none 
that Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed 
changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, 
instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He 
looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, 
double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco-smoke 
instead of idle speeches ; or Van Bummel, the schoolmaster 
doling forth the contents of an ancient newspaper. In place of 
these, a lean, bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets full of hand- 
bills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of citizens — elec- 
tions — members of Congress — liberty — Bunker's Hill — heroes 
of seventy-six — and other words, which were a perfect Babylonish 
jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle. 



158 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled beard, his rusty 
fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of women and 
children at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the tavern- 
politicians. They crowded round him, eying him from head to 
foot with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and, 
drawing him partly aside, inquired " on which side he voted?" 
Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little 
fellow pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in 
his ear, "whether he was Federal or Democrat?" Rip was 
equally at a loss to comprehend the question, when a knowing, 
self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his 
way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with 
his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, 
with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes 
and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded 
in an austere tone, " what brought him to the election with a gun 
on his shoulder and a mob at his heels ; and whether he meant to 
breed a riot in the village?" — /'Alas! gentlemen," cried Rip, 
somewhat dismayed, ."I. am a poor, quiet man, a native of the 
place, and a loyal subject of the king, God bless him ! " 

Here a general shout burst from the by-standers. " A Tory ! a 
Tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away with him ! " It was 
with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat 
restored order, and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, 
demanded again of the unknown culprit what he came there for, 
and whom he was seeking ? The poor man humbly assured him 
that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some 
of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. 

"Well, who are they? Name them." 

Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, "Where's 
Nicholas Vedder?" 

There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, 
in a thin, piping voice, " Nicholas Vedder ! why, he is dead and 
gone these eighteen years ! There was a wooden tombstone in 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 1 59 

the churchyard that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten 
and gone too." 

"Where's Brom Dutcher?" 

" Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war. 
Some say he was killed at the storming of Stony Point ; others say 
he was drowned in a squall at the foot of Antony's Nose. I don't 
know — he never came back again." 

" Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster? " 

" He went off to the wars too, was a great militia general, and 
is now in Congress." 

Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his 
home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. 
Every answer puzzled him, too, by treating of such enormous 
lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand, — 
war — Congress — Stony Point. He had no courage to ask after 
any more friends, but cried out in despair, " Does nobody here 
know Rip Van Winkle? " 

"Oh, Rip Van Winkle !" exclaimed two or three, "oh, to be 
sure ! that's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree." 

Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as he 
went up the mountain ; apparently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. 
The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted 
his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In 
the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat 
demanded who he was, and what was his name. 

" God knows ! " exclaimed he, at his wit's end ; " I'm not my- 
self — I'm somebody else — that's me yonder — no — that's some- 
body else got into my shoes — I was myself last night, but I fell 
asleep on the mountain ; and they've changed my gun, and every 
thing's changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my 
name, or who I am." 

The by-standers began now to look at each other, nod, wink 
significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There 
was a whisper also about securing the gun, and keeping the old 



160 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

fellow from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the self- 
important man in the cocked hat retired with some precipitation. 
At this critical moment a fresh, comely woman pressed through 
the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She had a 
chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to 
cry. " Hush, Rip," cried she, " hush, you little fool ; the old man 
won't hurt you." The name of the child, the air of the mother, 
the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his 
mind. " What is your name, my good woman? " asked he. 

" Judith Gardenier." 

" And your father's name? " 

" Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name ; but it's twenty 
years since he went away from home with his gun, and never has 
been heard of since, — his dog came home without him; but 
whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, no- 
body can tell. I was then but a little girl." 

Rip had but one question more to ask ; but he put it with a 
faltering voice, — 

"Where's your mother?" 

" Oh, she too had died but a short time since. She broke a 
bloodvessel in a fit of passion at a New-England peddler." 

There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The 
honest man could contain himself no longer. He caught his 
daughter and her child in his arms. " I am your father ! " cried 
he — " young Rip Van Winkle once, old Rip Van Winkle now ! 
— Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle?" 

All stood amazed until an old woman, tottering out from among 
the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and peering under it in his 
face for a moment, exclaimed, " Sure enough ! it is Rip Van 
Winkle — it is himself !■ Welcome home again, old neighbor ! 
Why, where have you been these twenty long years?" 

Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been 
to him but as one night. The neighbors stared when they heard 
it ; some were seen to wink at each other, and put their tongues 



WASHINGTON IRVING. l6l 

in their cheeks ; and the self-important man in the cocked hat, 
who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the field, screwed 
down the corners of his mouth, and shook his head, — upon which 
there was a general shaking of the head throughout the assemblage. 

It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter 
Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He 
was a descendant of the historian of that name, who wrote one of 
the earliest accounts of the province. Peter was the most ancient 
inhabitant of the village, and well versed in all the wonderful 
events and traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at 
once, and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory manner. 
He assured the company that it was a fact, handed down from his 
ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill Mountains had always 
been haunted by strange beings. That it was affirmed that the 
great Hendrick Hudson, the first discoverer of the river and 
country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years with his 
crew of the Half-moon ; being permitted in this way to revisit the 
scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the river and 
the great city called by his name. That his father had once seen 
them in their old Dutch dresses playing at ninepins in a hollow 
of the mountain ; and that he himself had heard, one summer 
afternoon, the sound of their balls like distant peals of thunder. 

To make a long story short, the company broke up and returned 
to the more important concerns of the election. Rip's daughter took 
him home to live with her. She had a snug, well-furnished house, 
and a stout, cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected 
for one of the urchins that used to climb upon his back. As to Rip's 
son and heir, who was the ditto of himself, seen leaning against 
the tree, he was employed to work on the farm ; but evinced an 
hereditary disposition to attend to any thing else^but his business. 

Rip now resumed his old walks and habits. He soon found 
many of his former cronies, though all rather the worse for the 
wear and tear of time, and preferred making friends among the 
rising generation, with whom he soon grew into great favor. 



1 62 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER IX. 

JOHN G. WHITTIER (1807). 

" There is a rush of passion in his verse which sweeps every thing along with it." 
— E. P. Whipple. 

" His poetry bursts from the soul with the fire and energy of an ancient prophet. 
His noble simplicity of character is the delight of all who know him." — W. Ellery 
Channing. 

John Greenleaf Whittier, the celebrated Quaker 
poet, was born in Haverhill, Mass., in 1807. His parents 
belonged to that middle class of New-England farmers 
who are neither rich nor poor. By incessant toil and self- 
denial a good and honest living was gained, and an honor- 
able name established. Like so many sons of poor farmers, 
Whittier worked on the farm until he was eighteen, after 
which he attended the Haverhill Academy for several 
years. He always had a keen desire to improve himself 
by private study and reading ; and, although his educa- 
tional opportunities were meagre, he trained himself to 
write well and acceptably for the local newspapers. By his 
youthful contributions to the press he gained the friendship 
of William Lloyd Garrison, the well-known anti-slavery 
speaker and editor, and through his influence Whittier 
began to edit a political paper in Boston. Afterwards he 
took charge of a literary weekly at Hartford, Conn., and, 
later, an anti-slavery journal at Philadelphia. He was for 
many years associated editor of the "National Era" at 
Washington. 



JOHN G. WHITTIER. 



I6 3 



In 1 83 1 he returned to his native town, and devoted 
himself for several years to farming, and in the mean time 
served several terms in the Massachusetts Legislature as 
a representative from Haverhill. He was one of the origi- 
nal members of the American Anti-slavery Society, and, 
having been chosen its 
secretary, took up his 
residence in Philadel- 
phia, and resided there 
until 1840, when he re- 
turned home. In this 
same year he settled 
clown in Amesbury, a 
flourishing town a few 
miles from Haverhill, 
and has continued ever 
since to make this place 
his home. Within a 
few years, however, 
Mr. Whittier has re- 
sided most of his time 
with friends at "Oak 
Knolls " in Danvers, 
Mass. His first vol- 
ume, " Legends of New England in Prose and Verse," 
was published in 183 1, soon followed by "Voices of Free- 
dom," which gave him his first reputation. These volumes 
have been followed, at frequent intervals, by many works, 
mostly poems. "His poems," says one of his critics, "are 
among the aesthetic treasures of every intelligent family 




JOHN G. WHITTIER. 



1 From the latest photograph (1887), by Lamson, Portland, Me. By permis- 
sion. 



164 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

as far as the English language is spoken. They are re- 
cited in every school, and quoted from many a platform 
and school. Their influences range widely, and always 
for good." 

Usually it is not long after he conceives a poetical idea 
before he has it reduced to writing. He writes only when 
the mood seizes him, and then he writes as if fired with 
inspiration, losing all consciousness of time and things, 
going out of himself as it were, and becoming part and 
parcel of his subject. His first draught suffers little sub- 
sequent alteration, and the various editions of his works 
represent little or no time spent in revision. 

In stature Mr. Whittier is like his ancestors, tall, — 
measuring six feet or more, — of slender build, but straight 
as an arrow ; a fine-looking man, with high forehead, a fine 
face, a quiet smile, dark piercing eyes, and hair once black 
but now thinned and gray. He dresses in a suit of black, 
cut in Quaker fashion, and his speech is characterized to 
a slight extent by the peculiarities of the people whose 
form of service and creed he prefers to any other. 



THE FROST SPIRIT. 



He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! You may trace 

his footsteps now 
On the naked woods, and the blasted fields, and the brown hill's 

withered brow. 
He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees where their 

pleasant green came forth, 
And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have shaken them 

down to earth. 



JOHN G. WHITTIER. 1 65 

He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! from the frozen 
Labrador ; 5 

From the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which the white bear 
wanders o'er, — 

Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, and the luckless forms 
below 

In the sunless cold of the atmosphere into marble statues grow ! 

He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! on the rushing 

Northern blast, 
And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed as his fearful breath 

went past'. IO 

With an unscorched wing he has hurried on, where the fires of 

Hecla glow 
On the darkly beautiful sky above and the ancient ice below. 

He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! and the quiet 

lake shall feel 
The torpid touch of his glazing breath, and ring to the skater's 

heel ; 
And the streams which danced on the broken rocks, or sang to the 

leaning grass, * 5 

Shall bow again to their winter chain, and in mournful silence 

pass. 

He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! let us meet him 

as we may, 
And turn with the light of the parlor "fire his evil power away ; 
And gather closer the circle round, when that firelight dances 

high, 
And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as his sounding wing 

goes by ! 20 



1 66 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



LINES ON A PORTRAIT. 

How beautiful ! That brow of snow, 

That glossy fall of fair brown tresses, 
The blue eye's tranquil heaven below, 

The hand whereon the fair cheek presses, 
Half-shadowed by a falling curl 5 

Which on the temple's light reposes — 
Each finger like a line of pearl 

Contrasted with the cheek's pure roses ! 
There, as she sits beneath the shade 
By vine and rose-wreathed arbor made, 10 

Tempering the light which, soft and warm, 
Reveals her full and matchless form, 
In thoughtful quietude, she seems 
Like one of Raphael's pictured dreams, 
Where blend in one all-radiant face 1 S 

The woman's warmth — the angel's grace ! 

Well — I can gaze upon it now, 

As on some cloud of autumn's even, 
Bathing its pinions in the glow 

And glory of the sunset heaven — 20 

So holy and so far away 

That love without desire is cherished, 
Like that which lingers o'er the clay 

Whose warm and- breathing life has perished, 
While yet upon its brow is shed 2 5 

The mournful beauty of the dead ! 
And I can look on her as one 
Too pure for aught save gazing on — 
An idol in some holy place, 
Which man may kneel to, not caress — 3° 



JOHN G. WHITTIER. 1 67 

Or melting tone of music heard 
From viewless lip or unseen bird. 

I know her not. And what is all 

Her beauty to a heart like mine, 
While memory yet hath power to call 35 

Its worship from a stranger shrine ? 
Still midst the weary din of life 

The tones I love, my ear has met ; 
Midst lips of scorn and brows of strife 

The smiles I love are lingering yet ! 4° 

The hearts in sun and shadow known — 
The kind hands lingering in our own — 
The cords of strong affection spun 
By early deeds of kindness done — 
The blessed sympathies which bind 45 

The spirit to its kindred mind, — 
Oh, who would leave these tokens tried 
For all the stranger world beside ? 



168 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER X. 

OLIVER GOLDSMITH (1728-1774). 

" No man was more foolish when he had not a pen in his hand, or more wise when 
he had.'' — Dr. Samuel Johnson. 

" He was a friend to virtue, and in his most playful pages never forgets what is 
due to it. A gentleness, delicacy, and purity of feeling distinguish whatever he 
wrote, and bear a correspondence to a generosity of disposition which knew no 
bounds but his last guinea." — Sir Walter Scott. 

Oliver Goldsmith was born in a little village called 
Pallas, or Pallasmore, in the county of Longford, Ireland, 
in 1728. His father was a poor Protestant clergyman, 
whose income during the earlier portion of his life did not 
exceed forty pounds a year. This amiable and worthy man 
has been immortalized in the writings of his illustrious 
son, being the antetype of the "man in black" in "The 
Citizen of the World," the "Dr. Primrose" of "The Vicar 
of Wakefield," and the "village preacher" of "The De- 
serted Village." Oliver was the fifth in a family of eight 
children, so it was impossible for his father to afford to 
give him the advantages of a liberal education ; but his 
uncle Contarine furnished the necessary money to enable 
the future poet to attend in succession the universities of 
Dublin, Edinburgh, and Leyden. The poet's first teacher, 
however, was the schoolmistress of the little village of 
Lissoy, which is supposed to be the "sweet Auburn" 
of his verses. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



169 



Passing in succession through one or two inferior 
schools, Goldsmith entered Trinity College, Dublin, as a 
sizar, in 1745. At Dublin, the young poet's career was 
idle and irregular. The prescribed studies of the college 
he detested, while he evinced a strong proclivity for get- 
ting into debt, scrapes, and difficulties generally. More 
than once his uncle Contarine opened his purse to assist 
his thriftless nephew, who occasionally was forced to write 
and sing street ballads to 
keep himself from starving. 
He left Dublin in 1749, and 
spent a year or two in idle- 
ness, alternating with irreso- 
lute and vain attempts to 
settle down, first as a school- jjj 
master, and then as a lawyer. Jjj 
His uncle sent him to Edin- 
burgh to study medicine ; and ^t| 
from Edinburgh he proceed- 
ed to Leyden, where he re- 
mained only a year, and then 

set off to make, on foot, the tour of the European Conti- 
nent, and with no resources whatever except a guinea and 
a flute. In this destitute manner Goldsmith proceeded 
through Flanders, France, Switzerland, and Italy. 

After his return to England he made the friendship 
of Dr. Johnson, and published "The Traveller" (1764), 
which brought him both money and celebrity. En- 
couraged by this success, and by the kindly interest taken 
in him by such men as Pitt, Burke, and Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds, Goldsmith produced in succession, his celebrated 
domestic novel, " The Vicar of Wakefield ; " his two 




OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



tfO FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

comedies, " The Good-natured Man " and " She Stoops 
to Conquer;" and "The Deserted Village." 

These were all in an encouraging degree successful ; 
but nothing could teach their unfortunate author the 
virtues of caution, self-restraint, and self-respect. He 
continued to be borne down by debt, and his life remained 
as darkly checkered as ever. He died in the prime of life, 
in 1774, of a fever produced by his irregular mode of liv- 
ing and intense mental anxiety. He was buried in the 
graveyard of the Temple Church, Fleet Street, London, 
where a flagstone still marks his grave; and in Westminster 
Abbey there is a monument to his memory, inscribed with 
a Latin epitaph from the pen of Dr. Johnson. 

The poetry of Goldsmith is simple in expression, and 
full of quiet tenderness, while his lines are easy and me- 
lodious. In his prose works he is considered to have 
come very near the perfection of Addison's style. 

Washington Irving thus describes Goldsmith's personal 
appearance : " In stature he was somewhat under the 
middle size, and his body was strongly built. His fore- 
head was low, and more prominent than is usual ; his 
complexion pallid; his face almost round, and pitted with 
the small-pox. His first appearance was, therefore, by no 
means captivating : yet the general lineaments of his 
countenance bore the stamp of intellect, and exhibited 
traces of deep thinking; and when he grew easy and 
cheerful in company, he relaxed into such a display of 
good-humor as soon removed every unfavorable impres- 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 17 1 



THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 

SwEEt Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain ; 

Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain, 

Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, 

And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed : 

Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, ■ 5 

Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, 

How often have I loitered o'er thy green, 

Where humble happiness endeared each scene ! 

How often have I paused on every charm,. 

The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, IO 

The never-failing brook, the busy mill, 

The decent church that topt the neighboring hill, 

The hawthorn-bush, with seats beneath the shade, 

For talking age and whispering lovers made ! 

How often have I blest the coming day, »5 

When toil remitting lent its turn to play, 

And all the village train, from labor free, 

Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, 

W T hile many a pastime circled in the shade, 

The young contending as the old surveyed ; 2 ° 

And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, 

And sleights of art and feats of strength went round. 

And still, as each repeated pleasure tired, 

Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired ; 

The dancing pair that simply sought renown 25 

By holding out to tire each other down ; 

The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, 

While secret laughter tittered round the place ; 

The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love, 

The matron's glance that would those looks reprove. 3° 



172 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

These were thy charms, sweet village ! sports like these, 
With sweet succession, taught even toil to please : 
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed : 
These were thy charms — but all these charms are fled. 

Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, 35 

Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ; 
Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, 
And desolation saddens all thy green : 
One only master grasps the whole domain, 
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain. 4° 

No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, 
But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way ; 
Along thy glades, a solitary guest, 
The hollow sounding bittern guards its nest ; 
Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, 45 

And tires their echoes with unvaried cries ; 
Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, 
And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall ; 
And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, 
Far, far away thy children leave the land. 5° 

111 fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, 
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay. 
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; 
A breath can make them, as a breath has made : 
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, 55 

When once destroyed, can never be supplied. 

A time there was, ere England's griefs began, 
When every rood of ground maintained its man ; 
For him light labor spread her wholesome store, 
Just gave what life required, but gave no more : 6o 

His best companions, innocence and health ; 
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. 

But times are altered : trade's unfeeling train 
Usurp the land and dispossess the swain ; 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 173 

Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose, 6 5 

Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose, 

And every want to opulence allied, 

And every pang that folly pays to pride. 

These gentle hours that plenty bade" to bloom, 

Those calm desires that asked but little room, ~° 

Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene, 

Lived in each look, and brightened all the green ; 

These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, 

And rural mirth and manners are no more. 

Sweet Auburn ! parent of the blissful hour, 75 

Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. 
Here, as I take my solitary rounds 
Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds, 
And, many a year elapsed, return to view 
Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, 8o 

Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, 
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. 

In all my wanderings round this world of care, 
In all my griefs, — and God has given my share, — 
I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, 8 5 

Amidst these humble bovvers to lay me down ; 
To husband out life's taper at the close, 
And keep the flame from wasting by repose : 
I still had hopes (for pride attends us still) 
Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill, 9° 

Around my fire an evening group to draw, 
And tell of all I felt and all I saw ; 
And, as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue 
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, 
I still had hopes, my long vexations past, 95 

Here to return — and die at home at last. 

O blest retirement ! friend to life's decline, 
Retreats from care, that never must be mine, 



174 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

How happy he who crowns in shades like these 

A youth of labor with an age of ease ; I0 ° 

Who quits a world where strong temptations try, 

And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly ! 

For him no wretches, born to work and weep, 

Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep ; 

No surly porter stands in guilty state I0 5 

To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; 

But on he moves to meet his latter end, 

Angels around befriending Virtue's friend ; 

Bends to the grave with unperceived decay, 

While resignation gently slopes the way ; 1IQ 

And, all his prospects brightening to the last, 

His heaven commences ere the world be past. 

Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close 
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose. 
There, as I passed with careless steps and slow, JI 5 

The mingling notes came softened from below ; 
The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung, 
The sober herd that lowed to meet their young, 
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, 
The playful children just let loose from school, I20 

The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, 
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind, — 
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, 
And filled each pause the nightingale had made. 
But now the sounds of population fail, 12 5 

No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, 
No busy steps the grass-grown foot- way tread, 
For all the bloomy flush of life is fled, — 
All but yon widowed, solitary thing, 

That feebly bends beside the plashy spring : J 3° 

She, wretched matron, forced in age for bread 
To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread, 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 1 75 

To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn, 

To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn ; 

She only left of all the harmless train, »35 

The sad historian of the pensive plain. 

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, 
And still where many a garden flower grows wild, — 
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, 
The village preacher's modest mansion rose. M° 

A man he was to all the country dear, 
And passing rich with forty pounds a year ; 
Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 
Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place ; 
Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power, *45 

By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; 
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, 
More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise. 
His house was known to all the vagrant train ; 
He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain : J 5° 

The long-remembered beggar was his guest, 
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ; 
The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, 
Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed ; 
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, *55 

Sat by his fire, and talked the night away, 
Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, 
Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. 
Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, 
And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; l6 ° 

Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 
His pity gave ere charity began. 

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, 
And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side ; 
But in his duty prompt at every call, l6 5 

He watched and wept, he prayed and felt, for all ; 



I?6 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

And, as a bird each fond endearment tries 

To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, 

He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, 

Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. 170 

Beside the bed where parting life was laid, 
And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed, 
The reverend champion stood. At his control 
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; 
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, T 75 

And his last faltering accents whispered praise. 

At church, with meek and unaffected grace, 
His looks adorned the venerable place ; 
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, 
And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. *$° 

The service past, around the pious man, 
With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 
Even children followed with endearing wile, 
And plucked his gown to share the good man's smile. 
His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed ; 185 

Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed : 
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, 
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 
As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, J 9° 

Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 
Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, 
With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, 

There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, J 95 

The village master taught his little school. 
A man severe he was, and stern to view ; 
I knew him well, and every truant knew : 
Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace 
The day's disasters in his morning face ; 200 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 1 77 

Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee 

At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 

Full well the busy whisper circling round 

Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned. 

Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, 205 

The love he bore to learning was in fault. 

The village all declared how much he knew : 

'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too ; 

Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, 

And even the story ran that he could gauge : 210 

In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, 

For, even though vanquished, he could argue still ; 

While words of learned length and thundering sound 

Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around ; 

And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, 215 

That one small head could carry all he knew. 

But past is all his fame. The very spot 

Where many a time he triumphed is forgot. 

Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, 
Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, 220 

Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired, 
Where gray-beard mirth and smiling toil retired, 
Where village statesmen talked with looks profound, 

I And news much older than their ale went round. 
Imagination fondly stoops to trace 22 5 
The parlor splendors of that festive place : 
The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, 
The varnished clock that clicked behind the door ; 
The chest contrived a double debt to pay, 
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; 2 3° 
The pictures placed for ornament and use, 
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ; 
The hearth, except when winter chilled the day, 
"""■ 



178 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, 2 35 

Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row. 

Vain transitory splendors ! could not all 
Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall? 
Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart 
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart. 2 4° 

Thither no more the peasant shall repair 
To sweet oblivion of his daily care ; 
No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, 
No more the woodman's ballad, shall prevail ; 
No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, 2 45 

Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear ; 
The host himself no longer shall be found 
Careful to see the mantling bliss go round ; 
Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, 
Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. 2 5° 

Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, 
These simple blessings of the lowly train ; 
To me more dear, congenial to my heart, 
One native charm, than all the gloss of art ; 
Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, 2 55 

The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway ; 
Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, 
Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined. 
But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, 
With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed — 26 ° 

In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, 
The toiling pleasure sickens into pain ; 
And e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy, 
The heart distrusting asks if this be joy. 

Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey 26 5 

The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 
'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand 
Between a splendid and a happy land. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 1 79 

Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, 

And shouting Folly hails them from her shore ; 2 7° 

Hoards e'en beyond the miser's wish abound, 

And rich men flock from all the world around. 

Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name 

That leaves our useful products still the same. 

Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride 2 7S 

Takes up a space that many poor supplied ; 

Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, 

Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds : 

The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth 

Has robbed the neighboring fields of half their growth ; z8 ° 

His seat, where solitary sports are seen, 

Indignant spurns the cottage from the green : 

Around the world each needful product flies, 

For all the luxuries the world supplies ; 

While thus the land adorned for pleasure all 285 

In barren splendor feebly waits the fall. 

As some fair female unadorned and plain, 
Secure to please while youth confirms her reign, 
Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies, 
Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes ; 2 9° 

But when those charms are past, for charms are frail, 
When time advances, and when lovers fail, 
She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, 
In all the glaring impotence of dress. 

Thus fares the land by luxury betrayed : 2 95 

In nature's simplest charms at first arrayed, 
But verging to decline, its splendors rise ; 
Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise : 
While, scourged by famine from the smiling land, 
The mournful peasant leads his humble band, 3 00 

And while he sinks, without one arm to save, 
The country blooms — a garden and a grave. 



l80 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Where, then, ah ! where, shall poverty reside, 
To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride ? 
If to some common's fenceless limits strayed 3°5 

He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, 
Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, 
And even the bare-worn common is denied. 

If to the city sped — what waits him there ? 
To see profusion that he must not share ; 3 10 

To see ten thousand baneful arts combined 
To pamper luxury, and thin mankind ; 
To see those joys the sons of pleasure know 
Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe. 
3 Here while the courtier glitters in brocade, 3 T 5 

There the pale artist plies the sickly trade ; 
Here while the proud their long-drawn pomps display, 
There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. 
The dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign 
Here, richly decked, admits the gorgeous train : 3 20 

Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, 
The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. 
Sure, scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy ! 
Sure these denote one universal joy ! 

Are these thy serious thoughts ? — Ah, turn thine eyes 3 2 5 
Where the poor houseless shivering female lies. 
She once, perhaps, in village plenty blessed, 
Has wept at tales of innocence distressed; 
Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, 
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn : 33° 

Now lost to all, her friends, her virtue fled, 
Near her betrayer's door she lays her head, 
And pinched with cold, and shrinking from the shower, 
With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, 
When idly first, ambitious of the town, 335 

She left her wheel and robes of country brown. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. l8l 

Do thine, sweet Auburn, — thine, the loveliest train, — 
Do thy fair tribes participate her pain? 
Even now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, 
At proud men's doors they ask a little bread ! 34° 

Ah, no ! To distant climes, a dreary scene, 
Where half the convex world intrudes between, 
Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, 
Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe. 
Far different there from all that charmed before 345 

The various terrors of that horrid shore ; 
Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, 
And fiercely shed intolerable day ; 
Those matted woods, where birds forget to sing, 
But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling ; 35° 

Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crowned, 
Where the dark scorpion gathers death around j 
Where at each step the stranger fears to wake 
The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake ; 
W T here crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, 355 

And savage men more murderous still than they ; 
While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, 
Mingling the ravaged landscape with the skies. 
Far different these from every former scene, 
The cooling brook, the grassy vested green, 3 6 ° 

The breezy covert of the warbling grove, 
That only sheltered thefts of harmless love. 

Good Heaven ! what sorrows gloomed that parting day, 
That called them from their native walks away ; 
When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, 3 6 5 

Hung round the bowers, and fondly looked their last, 
And took a long farewell, and wished in vain 
For seats like these beyond the western main, 
And shuddering still to face the distant deep, 
Returned and wept, and still returned to weep. 370 



1 82 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

The good old sire the first prepared to go 

To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe ; 

But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, 

He only wished for worlds beyond the grave. 

His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, 375 

The fond companion of his helpless years, 

Silent went next, neglectful of her charms, 

And left a lover's for a father's arms. 

With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, 

And blessed the cot where every pleasure rose, 3 8 ° 

And kissed her thoughtless babes with many a tear, 

And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear, 

Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief 

In all the silent manliness of grief. 

O luxury ! thou cursed by Heaven's decree, 3 8 5 

How ill exchanged are things like these for thee ! 
How do thy potions, with insidious joy, 
Diffuse their pleasure only to destroy ! 
Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, 
Boast of a florid vigor not their own. 39° 

At every draught more large and large they grow, 
A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe ; 
Till sapped their strength, and every part unsound, 
Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. 

Even now the devastation is begun, 395 

And half the business of destruction done ; 
Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, 
I see the rural virtues leave the land. 
Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, 
That idly waiting flaps with every gale, 4 00 

Downward they move, a melancholy band, 
Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. 
Contented toil, and hospitable care, 
And kind connubial tenderness, are there ; 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 1 83 

And piety with wishes placed above, 4°5 

And steady loyalty, and faithful love. 

And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, 

Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; 

Unfit in these degenerate times of shame 

To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; 4 T0 

Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, 

My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ; 

Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, 

That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so ; 

Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel, 4 T 5 

Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well ! 

Farewell, and O ! where'er thy voice be tried, 

On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side, 

Whether where equinoctial fervors glow, 

Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, 4 2 ° 

Still let thy voice, prevailing over time, 

Redress the rigors of the inclement clime ; 

Aid slighted truth with thy persuasive strain ; 

Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain • 

Teach him that states of native strength possessed, 4 2 5 

Though very poor, may still be very blessed ; 

That Trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, 

As ocean sweeps the labored mole away ; 

While self-dependent power can time defy, 

As rocks resist the billows and the sky. 43 o 



1 84 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER XL 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT (1794-1878). 

" Bryant's writings transport us into the depths of the solemn primeval forest, 
to the shores of the lonely lake, the banks of the wild, nameless stream, or the brow 
of the rocky upland, rising like a promontory from amidst a wide ocean of foliage ; 
while they shed around us the glories of a climate fierce in its extremes, but splendid 
in all its vicissitudes." — Irving. 

William Cullen Bryant, who may be said to share 
with Longfellow and Whittier the first place among the 
great poets of America, was born at Cummington, Mass., 
in 1794. He was carefully educated by his father, who 
seems to have been a man of more than ordinary attain- 
ments. While even a boy, Bryant was remarkable for his 
poetical abilities. At the age of ten he made translations 
from the Latin authors, which were published ; and at 
thirteen he wrote "The Embargo," along poem of some 
merit. He entered Williams College, remained there only 
two years, and then began to study law. 

After being admitted to the bar, he continued to prac- 
tise law for several years in Great Barrington, Mass., but 
removed to New-York City in 1825, and devoted himself 
solely to literary work. The publication of " Thanatopsis," 
at the age of nineteen, gave him an enviable rank as a 
poet. This remarkable poem has continued to be a favor- 
ite ever since it was first published. Bryant became con- 
nected with the New-York "Evening Post" in 1826, and 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 1 85 

continued for over fifty years to be associated with this 
paper as part owner and editorial contributor. Daring the 
winter he lived in New-York City, but in summer he had 
a beautiful home at Roslyn, Long Island. 

While Bryant attained his reputation principally on 
account of his poetry, he ranks high as a writer of prose. 
He led a remarkably busy life ; for in addition to writ- 
ing most carefully elaborated 
poems year after year, books 
of travels, translations, ora- 
tions, and addresses, he was 
an industrious editorial writer 
for the "Evening Post," a 
part ownership in which paper 
made him one of the richest 
authors of modern times. 

Bryant was a most care- 
ful and pains - taking writer. 
Aside from his uncollected 
editorials, and his translations 
of Homer, the whole body of 
his writings is not large. One 
volume of moderate size contains all his poems. Bryant 
was always a stern critic of his own work, and did not 
hesitate to revise his manuscript over and over again. 
For many years the venerable poet was one of the most 
familiar figures in the streets of New York. His hair 
and beard were snowy white, and his overhanging eye- 
brows and deep-set eyes gave him an air of intense 
thought. Bryant always lived in the most methodical 
and exact manner. He took long walks every day, and 
never omitted his morning bath, and his exercise before 




WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 



1 86 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

breakfast with Indian clubs. His food was of the simplest 
character, mostly fruit and vegetables, rarely using even 
tea and coffee. 



TO A WATERFOWL. 



Whither, midst falling dew, 
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue 

Thy solitary way ? 

Vainly the fowler's eye 
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, 
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, 

Thy figure floats along. 

Seek'st thou the plashy brink 
Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink 
On the chafed ocean side? 

There is a Power whose care 
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, — 
The desert and illimitable air, — 

Lone wandering, but not lost. 

All day thy wings have fanned, 
At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere ; 
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, 

Though the dark night is near. 

And soon that toil shall end ; 
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, 
And scream among thy fellows ; reeds shall bend 

Soon o'er thy sheltered nest. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 1 87 

Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven 2 5 

Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet on my heart 
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, 

And shall not soon depart. 

He who, from zone to zone, 
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 3° 

In the long way that I must tread alone, 

Will lead my steps aright. 



THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS. 

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, 

Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear. 

Heaped in the hollows of the grove the withered leaves lie dead ; 

They rustle to the eddying gust and to the rabbit's tread. 

The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, 5 

And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. 

Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprung 

and stood 
In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood? 
Alas ! they all are in their graves : the gentle race of flowers 
Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours. IO 
The rain is falling where they lie ; but the cold November rain 
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again. 

The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago, 
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer's glow ; 
But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, J 5 

And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty stood, 
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on 

men, 
And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade, 

and glen. 



1 88 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

And now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will 

come, 
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home ; 20 
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees 

are still, 
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, 
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, 
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more. 

And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, — 2 5 
The fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side. 
In the cold, moist earth we laid her, when the forests cast the leaf, 
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief; 
Yet not unmeet it was that one like that young friend of ours, 
So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers. 3° 



THANATOPSIS. 

To him who in the love of Nature holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language : for his gayer hours 
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides 
Into his darker musings with a mild 
And gentle sympathy that steals away 
Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts 
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight 
Over thy spirit, and sad images 
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, 
Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart, 
Go forth, unto the open sky, and list 
To Nature's teachings, while from all around — 
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 189 

Comes a still voice : Yet a few days, and thee 

The all-beholding sun shall see no more 

In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground, 

Where thy pale form was laid with many tears, 20 

Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist 

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim 

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, 

And, lost each human trace, surrendering up 

Thine individual being, shalt thou go 2 5 

To mix forever with the elements ; 

To be a brother to the insensible rock, 

And to the sluggish clod which the rude swain 

Turns with his share and treads upon. The oak 

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. 3° 

Yet not to thy eternal resting-place 
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish 
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down 
With patriarchs of the infant world, — with kings, 
The powerful of the earth, — the wise, the good, 35 

Fair forms and hoary seers of ages past, 
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills, 
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun ; the vales, 
Stretching in pensive quietness between ; 
The venerable woods ; rivers that move 4° 

In majesty, and the complaining brooks, 
That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all, 
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — 
Are but the solemn decorations all 

Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, 45 

The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 
Are shining on the sad abodes of death 
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread 
The globe are but a handful to the tribes 
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 5° 



190 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness. 

Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 

Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound ' 

Save his own dashings, — yet the dead are there. 

And millions in those solitudes, since first 55 

The flight of years began, have laid them down 

In their last sleep : the dead reign there alone. 

So shalt thou rest ; and what if thou withdraw 

In silence from the living, and no friend 

Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe 6o 

Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh 

When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care 

Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase 

His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave 

Their mirth and their employments, and shall come 6 5 

And make their bed with thee. As the long train 

Of ages glides away, the sons of men — 

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes 

In the full strength of years, matron and maid, 

The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man — 7° 

Shall one by one be gathered to thy side 

By those who in their turn shall follow them. 

So live, that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan which moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 75 

His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 8o 

About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 



THOMAS GRAY. 191 



CHAPTER XII. 

THOMAS GKAY (1716-1771). 

"Of all English poets, Gray was the most finished artist. He attained the high- 
est degree of splendor of which poetical style seemed to he capable." — Sir James 
Mackintosh. 

Thomas Gray was born in Cornhill, London, in 1716. 
His father was a scrivener and exchange-broker, whose 
unarm able character occasioned his separation from his 
wife, who seems to have had nothing in common with 
her brutal husband. Borne down by blighted affections 
and straitened circumstances, she struggled bravely to 
bring up respectably her family of eleven children. To 
the tender but unflinching devotion of this heroic woman, 
Thomas Gray owed his liberal education. 

In 1734 Gray went to Cambridge; but the routine of 
university life, and its necessary associations, proved 
extremely uncongenial. With the studies too, at least as 
there taught, he had no sympathy. Mathematics he had 
little liking for under any circumstances ; but even classi- 
cal studies, of which he was passionately fond, lost much 
of their charm when doled out to him in prosy lectures. 

The life of the mild and melancholy student was a 
subject of wonder, mingled with ridicule, to the students 
of Cambridge. At length, in 1756, the irritating annoy- 
ances and practical jokes, to which these young men sub- 
jected the poet, caused him to seek permanent refuge in 



192 



FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



Pembroke Hall. A constitutional melancholy, but always 
lovable rather than misanthropic, as time wore on, settled 
down darker and darker upon the poet's life. His depres- 
sion of spirits is only too faithfully indicated in a letter 
written in 1757. "As to myself," he writes, "I cannot 
boast at present either of my spirits, my situation, my 
employment, or fertility. The days and nights pass, and 
I am never the nearer to any thing but that to which we 

are all tending." The " Elegy 
in a Country Churchyard " 
was given to the world in 
1750, and was at once ad- 
mired and appreciated. At 
least eight years were spent 
by Gray in elaborating it. 

In 1757 the poet-laureate, 
Cibber, died ; and the laurel 
with its emoluments was of- 
fered to Gray, but he declined 
the proffered honor. In 1768 
he was appointed professor 
of modern history at Cam- 
bridge. Although he was a laborious student, and en- 
joyed the reputation of being one of the most learned 
men in Europe, yet he was a failure as a college professor. 
He could only work when instinct and impulse led him, 
and that was not towards a very effective discharge of the 
duties of his postion. For six years he had been unable 
to read with one eye, while the other was bewildered with 
floating spots. He was not to suffer a long sickness. He 
died suddenly in the college hall, during dinner, July 24, 
1:771. 




THOMAS GRAY. 



THOMAS GRAY. 1 93 

When we consider his vast learning and unwearied appli- 
cation, the literary treasures which Gray has bequeathed 
to the world are few in number. Besides the immortal 
"Elegy," his principal works are, "The Bard," "The Prog- 
ress of Poesy," " Ode to Eton College," poetical compo- 
sitions in Latin, and translations from various languages. 
Had Gray written more, he would have stood higher as an 
author ; but he will be always remembered as a splendid 
lyric poet, whose productions are marked by dignified 
language and finished grace. 



ELEGY 

WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. 

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 

The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 

Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; 

Save that, from yonder ivy- mantled tower, 
The moping owl does to the moon complain 

Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
Molest her ancient solitary reign. 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 

Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 



194 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, 

The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, 

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 

No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 2 ° 

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 

Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 
No children run to lisp their sire's return, 

Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, 2 5 

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; 

How jocund did they drive their team afield ! 

How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! 

Let not ambition mock their useful toil, 

Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 3° 

Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 

The short and simple annals of the poor. 

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 

Await alike the inevitable hour. 35 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, 
If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, 

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault 

The pealing anthem swells the note of praise* 4° 

Can storied urn, or animated bust, 

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 

Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, 
Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death ? 






THOMAS GRAY. 1 95 

4 
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 45 

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; 
Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, 
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. 

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page 

Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll ; 5 f 

Chill penury repressed their noble rage, 

And froze the genial current of the soul. 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear ; 
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 55 

And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, 

The little tyrant of his fields withstood, 
Some mute inglorious Milton, here may rest, 

Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. 6o 

The applause of listening senates to command, 

The threats of pain and ruin to despise, 
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 

And read their history in a nation's eyes, — 

Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone 6 5 

Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; 

Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, 
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, — 

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 

To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 7° 

Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride 
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. 



g6 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; 

Along the cool sequestered vale of life 75 

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 

Yet even these bones from insult to protect, 

Some frail memorial still erected nigh, 
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, 

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 8c 

Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered muse, 

The place of fame and elegy supply ; 
And many a holy text around she strews, 

That teach the rustic moralist to die. 

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 8 5 

This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, 

Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? 

On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 

Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 9° 

Even from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, 
Even in our ashes live their wonted fires. 

For thee, who mindful of the unhonored dead 
Dost in these lines their artless tales relate ; 

If chance, by lonely contemplation led, 55 

Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, 

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, — 
" Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn 

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, 

To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. IO ° 



THOMAS GRA Y. 1 97 

" There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, 
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 

His listless length at noontide would he stretch, 
And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 

" Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, 305 

Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove ; 

Now drooping, woeful, wan, like one forlorn, 

Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. 

" One morn I missed him on the customed hill, 

Along the heath, and near his favorite tree : IIQ 

Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, 

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he : 

" The next, with dirges due in sad array, 

Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. 
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay JI 5 

Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 

THE EPITAPH. 

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, 

A youth to fortune and to fame unknown ; 
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, 

And Melancholy marked him for her own. 120 

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, 

Heaven did a recompense as largely send : 
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear, 

He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend. 

No farther seek his merits to disclose, 125 

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, 

(There they alike in trembling hope repose,) 
The bosom of his Father and his God. 



198 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE (1804-1864). 

" There is Hawthorne, with genius so shrinking and rare 
That you hardly at first see the strength that is there ; 
A frame so robust, with a nature so sweet, 
So earnest, so graceful, so solid, so fleet, 
Is worth a descent from Olympus to meet." 

Lowell. 

Nathaniel Hawthorne, a brilliant and original master 
of English prose writing, was born in Salem, Mass., July 
4, 1804. On account of feeble health, he lived during his 
youth on a farm in Maine. He graduated at Bowdoin 
College in 1825, in the same class with Longfellow. He 
began to write at an early age. His first publication was 
a collection of stories he had written for periodicals, 
entitled "Twice-told Tales," published in 1837. This 
work, at first, made no impression on the public. A second 
volume appeared in 1842. 

From 1838 to 1841 he held a position in the Boston 
Custom-hOuse, afterwards a similar place in Salem. His 
" Blithedale Romance " appeared in 1852. Shortly after, 
he married and went to live in Concord, Mass., in the old 
parsonage which he has made historic by his " Mosses from 
an Old Manse." In 1846, while living at Salem, he wrote 
his best-known romance, " The Scarlet Letter," which 
established his reputation. It is the most powerful and 
picturesque work of the kind in American literature. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 



199 



After losing his office at Salem, he removed to Lenox, 
Mass., where he wrote his " House of the Seven Gables." 
After his friend and classmate, Franklin Pierce, became 
President, Hawthorne was appointed consul to Liverpool. 
Upon his return home, " The Marble Faun " was published. 
He wrote at different times several juvenile works, as the 
"Wonder Book," "Tanglewood Tales," "True Stories 
from History and Biography," all of which bear the im- 
press of the genius of their 



author. During the last few 
years of his life, his health 
was delicate. He died sud- 
denly at Plymouth, N. H., 
in 1864, while on a journey 
with ex-President Pierce. 

Hawthorne is regarded as 
one of the foremost writers 
of prose in English litera- 
:ure. His genius was unique, 
in his peculiar field, he 
stands alone. He delighted 
:o depict in his marvellous style the dark side of human 
tature. He loved to delineate and to lay bare the intri- 
cacies of human passion. 

Hawthorne was a shy and reserved man, but possessed 
of many kind and lovable traits. His intimate friends 
cherished him with loving admiration and sincere friend- 
ship. He had a strong physical frame, and a tall stature. 
He had broad shoulders, a deep chest, and a massive 
head. His gray-blue eyes were large and lustrous. His 
hair was dark brown, and of remarkable fineness ; his 
skin delicate, giving unusual softness to his complexion. 




NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 



200 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

In all business matters he was the soul of honor. His 
fault was that he attributed to other people a sense of 
honor equal to his own. 



LITTLE ANNIE'S RAMBLE. 

From " The Twice-Told Tales." 

Ding-dong ! Ding-dong ! Ding-dong ! 

The town-crier has rung his bell at a distant corner, and little 
Annie stands on her father's door-steps, trying to hear what the 
man with the loud voice is talking about. Let me listen too. 
Oh ! he is telling the people that an elephant, and a lion, and a 
royal tiger, and a horse with horns, and other strange beasts from 
foreign countries, have come to town, and will receive all visitors 
who choose to wait upon them. Perhaps little Annie would like 
to go. Yes ; and I can see that the pretty child is weary of this 
wide and pleasant street, with the green trees flinging their shade 
across the quiet sunshine, and the pavements and the sidewalks 
all as clean as if the housemaid had just swept them with her 
broom. She feels that impulse to go strolling away — that long- 
ing after the mystery of the great world — which many children 
feel, and which I felt in my childhood. Little Annie shall take 
a ramble with me. See ! I do but hold out my hand, and like 
some bright bird in the sunny air, with her blue silk frock flutter- 
ing upwards from her white pantalets, she comes bounding on 
tiptoe across the street. 

Smooth back your brown curls, Annie, and let me tie on your 
bonnet, and we will set forth. What a strange couple to go on 
their rambles together ! One walks in black attire, with a meas- 
ured step, and a heavy brow, and his thoughtful eyes bent down, 
while the gay little girl trips lightly along, as if she were forced to 
keep hold of my hand, lest her feet should dance away from the 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 201 

earth. Yet there is sympathy between us. If I pride myself on 
any thing, it is because I have a smile that children love; and, 
on the other hand, there are few grown ladies that could entice 
me from the side of little Annie ; for I delight to let my mind go 
hand in hand with the mind of a sinless child. So, come, Annie ; 
but if I moralize as we go, do not listen to me ; only look about 
you, and be merry. 

Now we turn the corner. Here are hacks with two horses, and 
stage-coaches with four, thundering to meet each other, and trucks 
and carts moving at a slower pace, being heavily laden with bar- 
rels from the wharves, and here are rattling gigs, which perhaps 
will be smashed to pieces before our eyes. Hitherward, also, 
comes a man trundling a wheelbarrow along the pavement. Is 
not little Annie afraid of such a tumult ? No ; she does not even 
shrink closer to my side, but passes on with fearless confidence, 
a happy child amidst a great throng of grown people, who pay 
the same reverence to her infancy that they would to extreme old 
age. Nobody jostles her ; all turn aside to make way for little 
Annie ; and, what is most singular, she appears conscious of her 
claim to such respect. Now her eyes brighten with pleasure ! A 
street musician has seated himself on the steps of yonder church, 
and pours forth his strains to the busy town, a melody that has 
gone astray among the tramp of footsteps, the buzz of voices, and 
the war of passing wheels. Who heeds the poor organ-grinder? 
None but myself and little Annie, whose feet begin to move in 
unison with the lively tune, as if she were loath that music should 
be wasted without a dance. But where would Annie find a part- 
ner? Some have the gout in their toes, or the rheumatism in 
their joints ; some are stiff with age ; some feeble with disease ; 
some are so lean that their bones would rattle, and others of such 
ponderous size that their agility would crack the flag-stones ; but 
many, many have leaden feet, because their hearts are far heavier 
than lead. It is a sad thought that I have chanced upon. What 
a company of dancers should we be ! For I, too, am a gentle- 



202 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

man of sober footsteps, and therefore, little Annie, let us walk 
sedately on. 

It is a question with me, whether this giddy child or my sage 
self have most pleasure in looking at the shop-windows. We love 
the silks of sunny hue, that glow within the darkened premises 
of the spruce dry-goods men ; we are pleasantly dazzled by the 
burnished silver, and the chased gold, the rings of wedlock, and 
the costly love-ornaments, glistening at the window of the jew- 
eller ; but Annie, more than I, seeks for a glimpse of her passing 
figure in the dusty looking-glasses at the hardware stores. All 
that is bright and gay attracts us both. 

Here is a shop to which the recollections of my boyhood, as 
well as present partialities, give a peculiar magic. How delightful 
to let the fancy revel on the dainties of a confectioner ; those 
pies, with such white and flaky paste, their contents being a mys- 
tery, whether rich mince, with whole plums intermixed, or piquant 
apple, delicately rose-flavored ; those cakes, heart-shaped or round, 
piled in a lofty pyramid ; those sweet little circlets, sweetly named 
kisses ; those dark, majestic masses, fit to be bridal loaves at the 
wedding of an heiress, mountains in size, their summits deeply 
snow-covered with sugar ! Then the mighty treasures of sugar- 
plums, white and crimson and yellow, in large glass vases ; and 
candy of all varieties ; and those little cockles, or whatever they 
are called, much prized by children for their sweetness, and more 
for the mottoes which they enclose, by love-sick maids and bach- 
elors. Oh ! my mouth waters, little Annie, and so doth yours ; 
but we will not be tempted, except to an imaginary feast ; so let 
us hasten onward, devouring the vision of a plum-cake. 

Here are pleasures, as some people would say, of a more 
exalted kind, in a window of a bookseller. Is Annie a literary 
lady? Yes; she is deeply read in Peter Parley's tomes, and has 
an increasing love for fairy-tales, though seldom met with nowa- 
days, and she will subscribe next year to the Juvenile Miscellany. 
But, truth to tell, she is apt to turn away from the printed page, 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 203 

and keep gazing at the pretty pictures, such as the gay-colored 
ones which make this shop-window the continual loitering-place 
of children. What would Annie think, if, in the book which 
I mean to send her on New Year's Day, she should find her sweet 
little self, bound up in silk or morocco, with gilt edges, there to 
remain till she become a woman grown, with children of her own 
to read about their mother's childhood ! That would be very 
queer. 

Little Annie is weary of pictures, and pulls me onward by the 
hand, till suddenly we pause at the most wondrous shop in all the 
town. Oh, my stars! Is this a toy-shop, or is it fairy-land? 
For here are gilded chariots, in which the king and queen of the 
fairies might ride side by side, while their courtiers, on these 
small horses, should gallop in triumphal procession before and 
behind the royal pair. Here, too, are dishes of china-ware, fit 
to be the dining-set of those same princely personages, when they 
make a regal banquet in the stateliest hall of their palace, full five 
feet high, and behold their nobles feasting adown the long per- 
spective of the table. Betwixt the king and queen should sit my 
little Annie, the prettiest fairy of them all. Here stands a tur- 
baned Turk, threatening us with his sabre, like an ugly heathen 
as he is, and next a Chinese mandarin who nods his head at 
Annie and myself. Here we may review a whole army of horse 
and foot, in red and blue uniforms, with drums, fifes, trumpets, 
and all kinds of noiseless music : they have halted on the shelf 
of this window, after their weary march from Lilliput. But what 
cares Annie for soldiers? No conquering queen is she, neither 
a Semiramis nor a Catharine ; her whole heart is set upon that 
doll, who gazes at us with such a fashionable stare. This is the 
little girl's true plaything. Though made of wood, a doll is a 
visionary and ethereal personage, endowed by childish fancy with 
a peculiar life ; the mimic lady is a heroine of romance, an actor 
and a sufferer in a thousand shadowy scenes, the chief inhabitant 
of that wild world with which children ape the real one. Little 



204 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Annie does not understand what I am saying, but looks wishfully 
at the proud lady in the window. We will invite her home with 
us as we return. Meantime;, good-by, Dame Doll ! A toy your- 
self, you look forth from your window upon many ladies that are 
also toys, though they walk and speak, and upon a crowd in pur- 
suit of toys, though they wear grave visages. Oh, with your 
never-closing eyes, had you but an intellect to moralize on all that 
flits before them, what a wise doll would you be ! Come, little 
Annie, we shall find toys enough, go where we may. 

Now we elbow our way among the throng again. It is curious, 
in the most crowded part of a town, to meet with living creatures 
that had their birthplace in some far solitude, but have acquired 
a second nature in the wilderness of men. Look up, Annie, at 
that canary-bird, hanging out of the window in his cage. Poor 
little fellow ! his golden feathers are all tarnished in this smoky 
sunshine. He would have glistened twice as brightly among the 
summer islands ; but still he has become a citizen in all his tastes 
and habits, and would not sing half so well without the uproar 
that drowns his music. What a pity that he does not know how 
miserable he is ! There is a parrot, too, calling out, " Pretty 
Poll ! pretty Poll ! " as we pass by. Foolish bird, to be talking 
about her prettiness to strangers, especially as she is not a pretty 
Poll, though gaudily dressed in green and yellow ! If she had 
said, " Pretty Annie," there would have been some sense in it. 
See that gray squirrel at the door of the fruit-shop, whirling 
round and round so merrily within his wire wheel. Being con- 
demned to the treadmill, he makes it an amusement. Admirable 
philosophy ! 

Here comes a big, rough dog, a countryman's dog, in search 
of his master ; smelling at everybody's heels, and touching little 
Annie's hand with his cold nose, but hurrying away, though she 
would fain have patted him. Success to your search, Fidelity ! 
And there sits a great yellow cat upon a window-sill, — a very 
corpulent and comfortable cat, gazing at this transitory world 



NATHAXIEL HAWTHORNE. 205 

with owl's eyes, and making pithy comments, doubtless, or what 
appear such, to the silly beast. Oh, sage puss, make room for 
me beside you, and we will be a pair of philosophers ! 

Here we see something to remind us of the town-crier and 
his ding-dong bell. Look ! look at that great cloth spread out 
in the air, pictured all over with wild beasts, as if they had met 
together to choose a king, according to their custom in the days 
of ^Esop. But they are choosing neither a king nor a president, 
else we should hear a most horrible snarling ! They have come 
from the deep woods and the wild mountains and the desert 
sands and the polar snows, only to do homage to my little Annie. 
As we enter among them, the great elephant makes us a bow, in 
the best style of elephantine courtesy, bending lowly down his 
mountain bulk, with trunk abased, and leg thrust out behind. 
Annie returns the salute, much to the gratification of the ele- 
phant, who is certainly the best-bred monster in the caravan. 
The lion and the lioness are busy with two beef-bones. The 
royal tiger, the beautiful, the untamable, keeps pacing his narrow 
cage with a haughty step, unmindful of the spectators, or re 
calling the fierce deeds of his former life, when he was wont 
to leap forth upon such inferior animals, from the jungles of 
Bengal. 

Here we see the very same wolf, — do not go near him, Annie, 
— the self-same wolf that devoured little Red Riding Hood and 
her grandmother. In the next cage, a hyena from Egypt, who 
has doubtless howled around the Pyramids, and a black bear from 
our own forests, are fellow-prisoners and most excellent friends. 
Are there any two living creatures who have so few sympathies 
that they cannot possibly be friends? Here sits a great white 
bear, whom common observers would call a very stupid beast, 
though I perceive him to be only absorbed in contemplation. 
He is thinking of his voyages on an iceberg, and of his com- 
fortable home in the vicinity of the North Pole, and of the little 
cubs whom he left rolling in the eternal snows ; in fact, he is a 



206 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

bear of sentiment. But oh, those unsentimental monkeys ! the 
ugly, grinning, aping, chattering, ill-natured, mischievous, and 
queer little brutes. Annie does not love the monkeys. Their 
ugliness shocks her pure, instinctive delicacy of taste, and makes 
her mind unquiet, because it bears a wild and dark resemblance 
to humanity. But here is a little pony, just big enough for Annie 
to ride, and round and round he gallops in a circle, keeping time 
with his tramping hoofs to a band of music. And here, with a 
laced coat and a cocked hat, and a riding-whip in his hand, — 
here comes a little gentleman, small enough to be king of the 
fairies, and ugly enough to be king of the gnomes, and takes 
a flying leap into the saddle. Merrily, merrily, plays the music, 
and merrily gallops the pony, and merrily rides the little old 
gentleman. Come, Annie, into the street again; perchance we 
may see monkeys on horseback there ! 

Mercy on us, what a noisy world we quiet people live in ! Did 
Annie ever read the cries of London city? With what lusty lungs' 
doth yonder man proclaim that his wheelbarrow is full of lobsters ! 
Here comes another mounted on a cart, and blowing a hoarse 
and dreadful blast from a tin horn, as much as to say, " Fresh 
fish ! " And hark ! a voice on high, like that of a muezzin from 
the summit of a mosque, announcing that some chimney-sweeper 
has emerged from smoke and soot and darksome caverns, into 
the upper air. What cares the world for that? But, well-a-day, 
we hear a shrill voice of affliction, the scream of a little child, 
rising louder with every repetition of that smart, sharp, slapping 
sound, produced by an open hand on tender flesh. Annie sym- 
pathizes, though without experience of such direful woe. Lo ! 
the town-crier again, with some new secret for the public ear. 
Will he tell us of an auction, or of a lost pocket-book, or a show 
of beautiful wax figures, or of some monstrous beast more horri- 
ble than any in the caravan? I guess the latter. See how he 
uplifts the bell in his right hand, and shakes it slowly at first, then 
with a hurried motion, till the clapper seems to strike both sides. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 207 

at once, and the sounds are scattered forth in quick succession, 
far and near. 

Ding-dong ! ding-dong ! ding-dong ! 

Now he raises his clear, loud voice above all the din of the 
town ; it drowns the buzzing talk of many tongues, and draws 
each man's mind from his own business : it rolls up and down the 
echoing street, and ascends to the hushed chamber of the sick, 
and penetrates downward to the cellar-kitchen, where the hot 
cook turns from the fire to listen. Who, of all that address the 
public ear, whether in church or court-house or hall of state, has 
such an attentive audience as the town-crier? What saith the 
people's orator? 

"Strayed from her home, a little girl, of five years old, in 
a blue silk frock and white pantalets, with brown curling hair 
and hazel eyes. Whoever will bring her back to her afflicted 
mother " — 

Stop, stop, town-crier ! the lost is found. Oh, my pretty Annie, 
we forgot to tell your mother of our ramble, and she is in despair, 
and has sent the town-crier to bellow up and down the streets, 
affrighting old and young, for the loss of a little girl who has not 
once let go my hand. Well, let us hasten homeward ; and as we 
go, forget not to thank Heaven, my Annie, that, after wandering 
a little way into the world, you may return at the first summons, 
with an untainted and unwearied heart, and be a happy child 
again. But I have gone too far astray for the town-crier to call 
me back. 

Sweet has been the charm of childhood on my spirit, through- 
out my ramble with little Annie. Say not that it has been a 
waste of precious moments, an idle matter, a babble of childish 
talk, and a revery of childish imaginations, about topics unworthy 
of a grown man's notice. Has it been merely this? Not so; 
not so. They are not truly wise who would affirm it. As the 
pure breath of children revives the life of aged men, so is our 
moral nature revived by their free and simple thoughts, their 



208 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

native feeling, their airy mirth, for little cause or none, their grief, 
soon roused and soon allayed. Their influence on us is at least 
reciprocal with ours on them. When our infancy is almost for- 
gotten, and our boyhood long departed, though it seems but as 
yesterday ; when life settles darkly down upon us, and we doubt 
whether to call ourselves young any more, then it is good to steal 
away from the society of bearded men, and even of gentler 
woman, and spend an hour or two with children. After drinking 
from those fountains of still fresh existence, we shall return into 
the crowd, as I do now, to struggle onward and do our part in 
life, perhaps as fervently as ever, but, for a time, with a kinder 
and purer heart, and a spirit more lightly wise. All this by thy 
sweet magic, dear little Annie ! 



ROBERT BURNS. 209 



CHAPTER XIV. 

ROBERT BURNS (1759-1796). 

" Burns is by far the greatest poet that ever sprang from the bosom ot the people, 
and lived and died in an humble condition." — Professor Wilson. 

" But who his human heart has laid 
To Nature's bosom nearer? 
Who sweetened toil like him, or paid 
To love a tribute dearer ? 

" Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, 
So ' Bonnie Doon ' but tarry ; 
Blot out the epic's stately rhyme, 
But spare his ' Highland Mary ' ! " 

John G. Whittier. 

Robert Burns, "the Shakspeare of Scotland " as some 
one has justly called him, was born in 1759, at Alloway, 
in Ayrshire, Scotland, where his father had a small farm. 
Burns received a scanty school education, for his father 
kept his sons at home in order to help with the work cf 
the farm. The future poet made the most of his oppor- 
tunities, and increased his knowledge by studying the very 
few books within his reach. The greater part of Burns's 
education was gained at home. His father had a choice, 
though limited, stock of books, all of which he read eagerly 
and thoroughly. His mother, a truly religious woman, 
was devoted to her son " Robbie," who inherited many of 
her amiable qualities. 



2IO 



FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



As Burns went whistling behind his plough, thoughts 
of nature and its beauties, of love and its tender emotions, 
would gradually shape themselves into words and rhythm, 
such as would suit exactly the very tunes he was whis- 
tling. Thus, song-making was his earliest effort as a poet. 
As his mind expanded, his life as a ploughman became 
tiresome and disagreeable, and at last utterly unendur- 
able. He consequently left it, tried farming on his own 

account, and failed. Disgusted 
with every thing about him, he 
resolved to leave Scotland, and 
to try his fortune in the West 
Indies, where so many Scots had 
already reaped an abundance of 
wealth. In order to pay the ex- 
pense of the voyage out, Burns 
) published a collection of his 
poems. This was so successful 
that he received more than 
enough money, and great popu- 
larity. 
Under these circumstances, he gave up the idea of 
going abroad ; and the Ayrshire poet was invited by the 
great people of Edinburgh to pay them a visit. They 
gave him a most cordial reception when he came, feast- 
ing and lionizing him ; and he, ploughman though he 
was, conducted himself as if he were the finest gentleman 
among them. When this grand time was over, the poet 
went back to his old life, which did not look more pleas- 
ant after his brilliant holiday experiences in Edinburgh. 
Troubles came upon him, and he had at last to accept the 
humble office of exciseman. Unfortunately, this was 




ROBERT BURNS. 



ROBER T B URNS. 2 1 1 

the very worst employment he could have engaged in. 
He craved strong drink, and in the fulfilment of his duties 
as exciseman he had too many opportunities of indulging 
himself. One night in January he caught cold. The 
cold brought on fever ; and at the age of thirty-seven 
the great but unfortunate poet died, in 1796, at Dumfries, 
leaving a wife and six children in poverty. 

Burns is best known as a lyric poet. His songs are 
mostly about love, patriotism, and pleasure. Of the first, 
that beginning "Ae fond kiss, and then we part," is a 
good example ; of the second, " Scots wha hae wi' Wallace 
bled ; " and of the third, the songs which occur through- 
out " The Jolly Beggars." The characteristics of his style 
are humor, careful and loving study of nature, and an 
ability to express the emotions of the human heart which 
Shakspeare alone has been able to excel. His songs, for 
this reason, are known and sung in all regions of the 
globe. 

In speaking of Burns, Sir Walter Scott thus describes 
his personal appearance : " His person was strong and 
robust ; his manners rustic, a sort of dignified plainness 
and simplicity, which received part of its effect, perhaps, 
from one's knowledge of his extraordinary talents. His 
countenance was more massive than it looks in any of the 
portraits. There was a strong expression of sense and 
shrewdness in all his lineaments ; the eye alone indicated 
the poetical character and temperament. It was large, 
and of a dark cast, which glowed when he spoke with 
feeling or interest. I never saw such another eye in a 
human head, though I have seen the most distinguished 
men of my time." 



212 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 

My lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend ! 

No mercenary bard his homage pays : 
With honest pride I scorn each selfish end, 

My dearest meed a friend's esteem and praise : 
To you I sing in simple Scottish lays 5 

The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene ; 
The native feelings strong, the guileless ways ; 

What Aiken in a cottage would have been ; 
Ah ! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween. 

November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; IO 

The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; 
The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; 

The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : 
The toil-worn cotter frae his labour goes, 

This night his weekly moil is at an end, J 5 

Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, 

Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, 
And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. 

At length his lonely cot appears in view, 

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; 2 ° 

Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through 

To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee. 
His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonilie, 

His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile, 
The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 2 5 

Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, 
An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil. 

Belyve the elder bairns come drapping in, 

At service out amang the farmers roun' ; 
Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 3° 

A canine errand to a neebor town : 



ROBERT BURNS. 213 

Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman-grown, 
In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, 

Comes name, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown, 

Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee, 35 

To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 

Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, 

An' each for other's weelfare kindly spiers : 
The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet ; 

Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; 4° 

The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; 

Anticipation forward points the view. 
The mother wi' her needle an' her sheers 

Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new ; 
The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. 45 

Their master's an' their mistress's command 

The younkers a' are warned to obey ; 
An' mind their labours wi' an eydent hand, 

An' ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play : 
An' oh ! be sure to fear the Lord alvvay, 5° 

" An' mind your duty, duely, morn an' night ! 
Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, 

Implore His counsel and assisting might : 
They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright ! " 

But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; 55 

Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, 
Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor 

To do some errands, and convoy her hame ; 
The wily mother sees the conscious flame 

Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; 6o 

With heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name, 

While Jenny hamins is afraid to speak ; 
Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless rake. 



214 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben ; 

A strappan youth ; he takes the mother's eye ; 65 

Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; 

The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. 
The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, 

But, blate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave ; 
The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 7° 

What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave ; 
Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. 

O happy love ! where love like this is found ! 

O heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! 
I've paced much this weary mortal round, 75 

And sage experience bids me this declare — 
" If Heaven a draught of heav'nly pleasure spare, 

One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair 

In other's arms breathe out the tender tale 8o 

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale." 

Is there, in human form, that bears a heart — 

A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and truth ! 
That can with studied, sly, ensnaring art 

Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ? 8 5 

Curse on his perjur'd arts ! dissembling smooth ! 

Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exil'd? 
Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, 

Points to the parents fondling o'er their child ? 
Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild ! 9° 

But now the supper crowns their simple board, 
The healsome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food : 

The soupe their only Hawkie does afford, 

That 'yont the hallen snugly chows her cood ; 



ROBERT BURNS. 21 5 

The dame brings forth in complimental mood, 95 

To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell, 

An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid ; 
The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, 

How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell. 

The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face IO ° 

They round the ingle form a circle wide ; 
The sire turns o'er wi' patriarchal grace 

The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride : 
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, 

His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; I0 5 

Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 

He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
And " Let us worship God ! " he says, with solemn air. 

They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 

They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim ; II0 

Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, 

Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name ; 
Or noble Elgin beets the heav'nward flame, 

The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : 
Compar'd with these Italian trills are tame ; "5 

The tickl'd ears no heart-felt raptures raise ; 
Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 



The priest-like father reads the sacred page, 

How Abram was the friend of God on high ; 
Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage 120 

With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
Or how the royal bard did groaning lie 

Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; 
Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; 

Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; 125 

Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 



2l6 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme • 

How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; 
How He, who bore in heaven the second name, 

Had not on earth whereon to lay His head ; 13° 

How His first followers and servants sped ; 

The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : 
How he, who lone in Patmos banished, 

Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, 
And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's 
command. . 135 

Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King 

The saint, the father, and the husband prays : 
Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing," 

That thus they all shall meet in future days : 
There ever bask in uncreated rays, *4° 

No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, 
Together hymning their Creator's praise, 

In such society, yet still more dear ; 
While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere. 

Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride, "45 

In all the pomp of method, and of art, 
When men display to congregations wide 

Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart ! 
The Pow'r, incens'd, the pageant will desert, 

The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; * 5° 

But haply, in some cottage far apart, 

May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul, 
And in his Book of Life the inmates poor enroll. 

Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way ; 

The youngling cottagers retire to rest ; *55 

The parent-pair their secret homage pay, 

And proffer up to Heav'n the warm request, 



ROBERT BURNS. 2\J 

That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, 

And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, 
Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, l6 ° 

For them and for their little ones provide, 
But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside. 

From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 

That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad : 
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, l6 5 

" An honest man's the noblest work of God : " 
And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, 

The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; 
What is a lordling's pomp ? a cumbrous load, 

Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, *7° 

Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd ! 

O Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! 

For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent ! 

Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil- 
Be blest with health and peace and sweet content ! l 7S 

And, oh ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent 
From luxury's contagion weak and vile ; 

Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 
A virtuous populace may rise the while, 

And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd isle. l8 ° 

O Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide 

That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted heart ; 
Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride, 

Or nobly die, the second glorious part, 
(The patriot's God peculiarly thou art, l8 5 

His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) 
Oh, never, never, Scotia's realm desert, 

But still the patriot and the patriot-bard 
In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard ! 



2l8 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER XV. 

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES (1809). 

"Long may he live to make broader the face of our care-ridden generation, and 
to realize for himself the truth of the wise man's declaration, that 'a merry heart is 
a continual feast.' " — John G. Whittier. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes, one of the wittiest and 
wisest of American authors, was born in Cambridge, 
Mass., in 1809. He graduated at Harvard College in 
1829. He began to study law, but soon gave up the idea 
for the study of medicine. After several years of study, 
both at home and abroad, he began the practice of medi- 
cine in Boston. He Was chosen professor of anatomy and 
physiology in Dartmouth College in 1838, and was called 
to the same chair in Harvard Medical College in 1847. 

His first literary effort of any note was a poem delivered 
at Harvard College in 1836. The warm praise with which 
this poem was received doubtless stimulated the young 
physician to other literary work. His first volume of col- 
lected poems was published in 1836. Since that time, for 
over fifty years, Dr. Holmes has made every year a great 
variety of contributions to our literature, — poems, novels, 
essays, and medical writings. 

When the ''Atlantic Monthly" was founded in 1857, 
Dr. Holmes began a series of papers called "The Auto- 
crat of the Breakfast-Table," which did much to increase 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 



219 




-- 



the fame of the genial doctor. For the last thirty years 
he has been a regular and favorite contributor to the 
"Atlantic." Two other volumes have since been added 
to the "Breakfast-Table" series. This delightful series of 
papers has been unique in our literature, abounding in 
delicate fancies, genial wit, and good-natured satire. They 
are bright, sharp, and 
witty, and we rarely tire 
of them. 

His first novel, "Elsie 
Venner," appeared in 
1 86 1, and "The Guard- 
ian Angel" in 1867. 
Dr. Holmes has also 
made many and notable 
contributions to medi- 
cal literature. He has 
written prose and verse 
with equal success. His 
style is marked by cer- 
tain original and char- 
acteristic traits, — genial 
humor, mirthful satire, brilliant wit, and tender sentiment. 

Personally, Dr. Holmes is a man of slight build, neat 
and precise in all of his actions. He lectured every year 
for nearly forty years on anatomy at the Harvard Medical 
College. No man was ever more admired by his students. 
There seemed no end to the witty sayings, sharp repartees, 
and funny stories, with which he made his dry subject 
attractive to thousands of medical students. Although 
seventy-eight years old, Dr. Holmes is still busy with his 
pen. We never think of him as an old man. 




OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 



220 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



MY AUNT. 

My aunt ! my dear unmarried aunt ! 

Long years have o'er her flown ; 
Yet still she strains the aching clasp 

That binds her virgin zone : 
I know it hurts her, — though she looks 5 

As cheerful as she can ; 
Her waist is ampler than her life, 

For life is but a span. 

My aunt ! my poor deluded aunt ! 

Her hair is almost gray ; 10 

Why will she train that winter curl 

In such a spring-like way? 
How can she lay her glasses down, 

And say she reads as well, 
When through a double convex lens »5 

She just makes out to spell? 

Her father — grandpapa ! forgive 

This erring lip its smiles — 
Vowed she should make the finest girl 

Within a hundred miles ; 2 ° 

He sent her to a stylish school, — 

'Twas in her thirteenth June, — 
And with her, as the rules required, 

"Two towels and a spoon." 

They braced my aunt against a board 2 5 

To make her straight and tall ; 
They laced her up, they starved her down, 

To make her light and small ; 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 221 

They pinched her feet, they singed her hair, 

They screwed it up with pins, — 3° 

Oh, never mortal suffered more 
In penance for her sins. 

So, when my precious aunt was done, 

My grandsire brought her back 
(By daylight, lest some rabid youth 35 

Might follow on the track) . 
"Ah ! " said my grandsire, as he shook 

Some powder in his pan, 
" What could this lovely creature do 

Against a desperate man ! " 4° 

Alas ! nor chariot nor barouche, 

Nor bandit cavalcade, 
Tore from the trembling father's arms 

His all-accomplished maid. 
For her how happy had it been ! 45 

And Heaven had spared to me 
To see one sad, ungathered rose 

On my ancestral tree. 

THE LAST LEAF. 

I saw him once before 
As he passed by the door ; 

And again 
The pavement-stones resound 
As he totters o'er the ground 5 

With his cane. 

They say that in his prime, 
Ere the pruning-knife of Time 
Cut him down, 



222 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Not a better man was found 10 

By the crier on his round 
Through the town. 

But now he walks the streets, 
And he looks at all he meets, 

Sad and wan ; 15 

And he shakes his feeble head, 
That it seems as if he said, 

"They are gone !" 

The mossy marbles rest 

On the lips that he has prest 2 ° 

In their bloom ; 
And the names he loved to hear 
Have been carved for many a year 

On the tomb. 

My grandmamma has said, — 2 5 

Poor old lady ! she is dead 

Long ago, — 
That he had a Roman nose, 
And his cheek was like a rose 3° 

In the snow. 

But now his nose is thin, 
And it rests upon his chin 

Like a staff; 
And a crook is in his back, 35 

And a melancholy crack 

In his laugh. 

I know it is a sin 
For me to sit and grin 

At him here ; 4° 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 223 

But the old three-cornered hat, 
And the breeches, and all that, 
Are so queer ! 

And, if I should live to be 

The last leaf upon the tree 45 

In the spring, 
Let them smile, as I do now, 
At the old forsaken bough 

Where I cling. 



For all the blessings life has brought, 
For all its sorrowing hours have taught, 
For all we mourn, for all we keep, 
The hands we clasp, the loved that sleep ; 

The noontide sunshine of the past, 
Those brief, bright moments fading fast, 
The stars that gild our darkening years, 
The twilight ray from holier spheres, — 

We thank thee, Father ! let thy grace 
Our narrowing circle still embrace, 
Thy mercy shed its heavenly store, 
Thy peace be with us evermore ! 

Front " Hym?i for the Class-Meeting" 



224 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT (1771-1832). 

" Who is there, that looking back- over a great portion of his life, does not find 
the genius of Scott adminstering to his pleasures, beguiling his cares, and soothing 
his lonely sorrows ? " — Irving. 

Sir Walter Scott, the great Scotch poet and novelist, 
was born in Edinburgh in 177 1, and was educated at the 
high school and university of his native city. He studied 
for the law, became an advocate, was appointed sheriff of 
Selkirkshire, and settled with his wife at the farmhouse 
in Ashestiel. But his heart was not in his profession. 
From his very childhood he had been passionately fond of 
stories, especially those which referred to "the brave days 
of old." One clay, when about thirteen, he got possession 
of "Percy's Reliques," and became so absorbed in the 
stirring old ballads that he forgot to eat his dinner. His 
frequent visits to the banks of the Tweed, with their old 
castles and crumbling abbeys so full of interesting mem- 
ories, increased still more his ardent affection for the 
times gone by. The results began to show themselves 
in the romantic poems which he began to publish in 
1805. 

Scott's three great poems are "The Lay of the Last 
Minstrel," "Marmion," and "The Lady of the Lake." The 
first of these illustrates "the customs and manners which 



SIX WALTER SCOTT. 



225 



anciently prevailed on the borders of England and Scot- 
land." It is full of incidents, tournaments, raids, midnight 
expeditions, etc. "Marmion " is a romantic tale of Flodden 
field. " The Lady of the Lake " tells us of a king who, in 
disguise, traversing the Highlands in the neighborhood of 
Loch Katrine, missed his way, and met with several adven- 
tures which the poet de- 



:® 




scribes with telling effect. 
The story, however, was 
intended by Scott to be 
a mere thread of inter- 
est in a poem which was 
written to illustrate life 
and scenery in the Scot- 
tish Highlands. These 
poems are written after 
the fashion of the old 
metrical romances, and 
are remarkable for fresh- 
ness of thought, vivid- 
ness of description, and 
animation of style. They 
were very popular, and the author would have been con- 
sidered a famous man if he never had written any thing 
but poetry. 

In 1 8 14 Scott issued " Waverley," the first novel of the 
series which bears its name. It was published anony- 
mously. Scott, having gained a great name as a poet, was 
not sure that he would be equally successful as a novelist, 
and so withheld his name till he saw how "Waverley" was 
received by the public. The book was an extraordinary 
success ; and, as novel after novel made its appearance, 




SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



226 FIRST STEPS TV ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

the people were delighted, and the critics were enthusias- 
tic in their praise. 

It is unnecessary to enter into any description of works 
so widely known. Of the illustrious novelist it has been 
well remarked, that he " revived the glories of past ages ; 
illustrated the landscape and the history of his. native 
country; painted the triumphs of patriotism and virtue, 
and the meanness and misery of vice ; awakened our best 
and kindliest feelings in favor of suffering and erring 
humanity, — of the low-born and the persecuted, the peas- 
ant, the beggar, and the Jew. He has furnished an intel- 
lectual banquet as rich as it is various and picturesque, 
from his curious learning, extensive observation, forgotten 
manners, and decaying superstitions, — the whole embel- 
lished with the lights of a vivid imagination, and a correct 
and gracefully regulated taste." In the number and 
variety of his conceptions and characters, he ranks as 
one of the greatest masters of fiction. 

With the money which his works produced, and other 
funds which he expected to earn, Scott erected the grand 
Gothic mansion of Abbotsford, furnished' it after the 
fashion of feudal days, and lived in it like a knight of the 
olden time. From the government of the day he received 
a baronetcy. His life at Abbotsford was of the most 
pleasant kind. Here he delighted to meet and entertain 
his friends, "singing ballads and sounding pibrochs amidst 
the clinking of glasses ; holding gay hunting-parties, where 
yeomen and gentlemen rode side by side ; and encouraging 
lively dances, where the lord was not ashamed to give his 
hand to the miller's daughter." In order to keep up this 
grand style, he had secretly gone into partnership with his 
publishers. Unexpectedly the firm failed, and Scott found 



S/J? WALTER SCOTT. 22 J 

himself burdened at the age of fifty-five with a debt of 
a hundred and seventeen thousand pounds. But he was 
honest and courageous ; and so, setting to work on the: 
very day of the failure, he managed in four years to clear 
away seventy thousand pounds ; and he would have wrought 
on, but his health broke down under such excessive labor, 
and he was sent to Italy. After some time spent in that 
country, he became worse, and returned home to Abbots- 
ford, where he died in 1832. 

Scott was tall and striking in figure, stout and well- 
made. He was crippled in one foot, which made him walk 
very lame. His forehead was high, his nose short, and his 
upper lip long. His complexion was fresh and clear ; his 
eyes very blue, shrewd and penetrating. His smile was 
uncommonly sweet and winning. 



JEANIE DEANS PLEADING FOR HER SISTER'S 
LIFE. 

[From The Heart of Mid Lothian, chap, xxxvi.] 

The Queen seemed to acquiesce, and the duke made a signal 
for Jeanie to advance from the spot where she had hitherto 
remained watching countenances, which were too long accustomed 
to suppress all apparent signs of emotion, to convey to her any 
interesting intelligence. Her Majesty could not help smiling at 
the awe-struck manner in which the quiet, demure figure of the 
little Scotchwoman advanced towards her, and yet more at the first 
sound of her broad Northern accent. But Jeanie had a voice low 
and sweetly toned, — an admirable thing in woman, — and she 
besought " her Leddyship to have pity on a poor misguided young 
creature," in tones so affecting, that, like the notes of some of her 
native songs, provincial vulgarity was lost in pathos. 



228 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

" Stand up, young woman," said the Queen, but in a kind tone, 
" and tell me what sort of a barbarous people your country-folk 
are, where child-murder is become so common as to require the 
restraint of laws like yours." 

"If your Leddyship pleases," answered Jeanie, "there are mony 
places besides Scotland where mothers are unkind to their ain flesh 
and blood." 

It must be observed that the disputes between George the 
Second and Frederick Prince of Wales were then at the highest, 
and that the good-natured part of the public laid the blame on 
the Queen. She colored highly, and darted a glance of a most 
penetrating character first at Jeanie, and then at the duke. Both 
sustained it unmoved ; Jeanie from total unconsciousness of the 
offence she had given, and the duke from his habitual composure. 
But in his heart he thought, " My unlucky protegee has with this 
luckless answer shot dead, by a kind of chance medley, her only 
hope of success." 

Lady Suffolk good-humoredly and skilfully interposed in this 
awkward crisis. "You should tell this lady," she said to Jeanie, "the 
particular causes which render this crime common in your country." 

" Some thinks it's the Kirk-session — that is — it's the — it's the 
cutty-stool, if your Leddyship pleases," said Jeanie, looking down 
and courtesying. 

"The what?" said Lady Suffolk, to whom the phrase was new, 
and who besides was rather deaf. 

" That's the stool of repentance, madam, if it please your Leddy- 
ship," answered Jeanie, "for light life and conversation, and for 
breaking the seventh command." Here she raised her eyes to the 
duke, saw his hand at his chin, and, totally unconscious of what 
she had said out of joint, gave double effect to the innuendo, by 
stopping short and looking embarrassed. 

As for Lady Suffolk, she retired like a covering party, which, 
having interposed betwixt their retreating friends and the enemy, 
have suddenly drawn on themselves a fire unexpectedly severe. 



S/R WALTER SCOTT. 229 

'•'The deuce take the lass," thought the Duke of Argyle to him- 
self; "there goes another shot, and she has hit with both barrels 
right and left ! " 

Indeed, the duke had himself his share of the confusion ; for, 
having acted as master of ceremonies to this innocent offender, he 
felt much in the circumstances of a country squire, who, having 
introduced his spaniel into a well-appointed drawing-room, is 
doomed to witness the disorder and damage which arises to china 
and to dress-gowns in consequence of its untimely frolics. Jeanie's 
last chance -hit, however, obliterated the ill impression which had 
arisen from the first ; for her Majesty had not so lost the feelings 
of a wife in those of a Queen, but that she could enjoy a jest at 
the expense of "her good Suffolk." She turned towards the Duke 
of Argyle with a smile, which marked that she enjoyed the triumph, 
and observed, "The Scotch are a rigidly moral people." Then, 
again applying herself to Jeanie, she asked how she travelled up 
from Scotland. 

" Upon my foot mostly, madam," was the reply. 

"What, all that immense way upon foot? How far can you 
walk in a day?" 

" Five-and- twenty miles, and a bittock." 

"And a what?" said the Queen, looking towards the Duke of 
Argyle. 

"And about five miles more," replied the duke. 

" I thought I was a good walker," said the Queen, " but this 
shames me sadly." 

"May your Leddyship never hae sae weary a heart, that ye 
canna be sensible of the weariness of the limbs," said Jeanie. 

"That came better off," thought the duke : "it's the first thing 
she has said to the purpose." 

" And I didna just a'thegither walk the haill way neither, for I had 
whiles the cast of a cart ; and I had the cast of a horse from Ferry- 
bridge, and divers other easements," said Jeanie, cutting short her 
story, for she observed the duke made the sign he had fixed upon. 



230 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

" With all these accommodations," answered the Queen, " you 
must have had a very fatiguing journey, and I fear to little pur- 
pose ; since, if the King were to pardon your sister, in all prob- 
ability it would do her little good, for I suppose your people of 
Edinburgh would hang her out of spite." 

" She will sink herself now outright," thought the duke. 

But he was wrong. The shoals on which Jeanie had touched 
in this delicate conversation lay under ground, and were unknown 
to her ; this rock was above water, and she avoided it. 

" She was confident," she said, " that baith town and country 
wad rejoice to see his Majesty taking compassion on a poor un- 
friended creature." 

" His Majesty has not found it so in a late instance," said 
the Queen ; " but I suppose my lord duke would advise him to 
be guided by the votes of the rabble themselves, who should be 
hanged and who spared? " 

" No, madam," said the duke ; " but I would advise his Majesty 
to be guided by his own feelings, and those of his royal consort, 
and then I am sure punishment will only attach itself to guilt, and 
even then with cautious reluctance." 

"Well, my lord," said her Majesty, "all these fine speeches do 
not convince me of the propriety of so soon showing any mark of 
favor to your — I suppose I must not say rebellious? — but, at 
least, your very disaffected and intractable metropolis. Why, the 
whole nation is in a league to screen the savage and abominable 
murderers of that unhappy man ; otherwise, how is it possible but 
that, of so many perpetrators, and engaged in so public an action 
for such a length of time, one at least must have been recognized ? 
Even this wench, for aught I can tell, may be a depositary of the 
secret. — Hark you, young woman, had you any friends engaged 
in the Porteous mob?" 

" No, madam," answered Jeanie, happy that the question was 
so framed that she couIq!, with a good conscience, answer it in the 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 23 1 

"But I suppose," continued the Queen, "if you were possessed 
of such a secret, you would hold it a matter of conscience to keep 
it to yourself? " 

" I would pray to be directed and guided what was the line of 
duty, madam," answered Jeanie. 

"Yes, and take that which suited your own inclinations," replied 
her Majesty. 

" If it like you, madam," said Jeanie, " I would hae gaen to 
the end of the earth to save the life of John Porteous, or any 
other unhappy man in his condition ; but I might lawfully doubt 
how far I am called upon to be the avenger of his blood, though 
it may become the civil magistrate to do so. He is dead and 
gane to his place, and they that have slain him must answer for 
their ain act. But my sister, my puir sister, Effie, still lives, though 
her days and hours are numbered ! She still lives, and a word of 
the King's mouth might restore her to a broken-hearted auld man, 
that never in his daily and nightly exercise forgot to pray that his 
Majesty might be blessed with a long and a prosperous reign, and 
that his throne, and the throne of his posterity, might be estab- 
lished in righteousness. O madam, if ever ye kend what it was to 
sorrow for and with a sinning and a suffering creature, whose mind 
is sae tossed that she can be neither ca'd fit to live or die, have 
some compassion on our misery ! Save an honest house from 
dishonor, and an unhappy girl, not eighteen years of age, from an 
early and dreadful death ! Alas ! it is not when we sleep soft and 
wake merrily ourselves, that we think on other people's sufferings. 
Our hearts are waxed light within us then, and we are for righting 
our ain wrongs and fighting our ain battles. But when the hour 
of trouble comes to the mind or to the body, — and seldom may 
it visit your Leddyship, — and when the hour of death comes, that 
comes to high and low — lang and late may it be* yours, — oh, my 
Leddy ! then it isna what we hae dune for ourselves, but what we 
hae dune for others, that we think on maist pleasantly. And the 
thoughts that ye hae intervened to spare the puir thing's life, will 



232 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

be sweeter in that hour, come when it may, than if a word of your 
mouth could hang the haill Porteous mob at the tail of ae tow." 

Tear followed tear down Jeanie's cheeks, as, her features glow- 
ing and quivering with emotion, she pleaded her sister's cause with 
a pathos which was at once simple and solemn. 

"This is eloquence," said her Majesty to the Duke of Argyle. 
"Young woman," she continued, addressing herself to Jeanie, 
"/cannot grant a pardon to your sister ; but you shall not want 
my warm intercession with his Majesty. Take this housewife 
case," she continued, putting a small embroidered needle-case into 
Jeanie's hands ; " do not open it now, but at your leisure, you will 
find something in it which will remind you that you have had an 
interview with Queen Caroline." 

Jeanie, having her suspicions thus confirmed, dropped on her 
knees, and would have expanded herself in gratitude ; but the 
duke, who was upon thorns lest she should say more or less than 
just enough, touched his chin once more. 

" Our business is, I think, ended for the present, my lord duke," 
said the Queen, " and, I trust, to your satisfaction. Hereafter I 
hope to see your grace more frequently, both at Richmond and 
St. James's. — Come, Lady Suffolk, we must wish his grace good- 
morning." 

They exchanged their parting reverences, and the duke, so soon 
as the ladies had turned their backs, assisted Jeanie to rise from 
the ground, and conducted her back through the avenue, which 
she trod with the feeling of one who walks in her sleep. 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 233 



THE ESCAPE ON THE CLIFFS. 

[From The Antiquary, chap, vii.] 

They were now near the centre of a deep but narrow bay, or 
recess, formed by two projecting capes of high and inaccessible 
rock, which shot out into the sea like the horns of a crescent ; 
and neither durst communicate the apprehension which each be- 
gan to entertain, that, from the unusually rapid advance of the tide, 
they might be deprived of the power of proceeding by doubling 
the promontory which lay before them, or of retreating by the 
road which brought them thither. 

As they pressed forward, longing doubtless to exchange the 
easy curving line, which the sinuosities of the bay compelled them 
to adopt, for a straighter and more expeditious path, though less 
conformable to the line of beauty, Sir Arthur observed a human 
figure on the beach advancing to meet them. " Thank God ! " 
he exclaimed, " we shall get round Halket-head ! that person must 
have passed it ; " thus giving vent to the feeling of hope, though 
he had suppressed that of apprehension. 

"Thank God indeed ! " echoed his daughter, half audibly, half 
internally, as if expressing the gratitude which she strongly felt. 

The figure which advanced to meet them made many signs, 
which the haze of the atmosphere, now disturbed by wind and by 
a drizzling rain, prevented them from seeing or comprehending 
distinctly. Some time before they met, Sir Arthur could recognize 
the old blue-gowned beggar, Edie Ochiltree. It is said that even 
the brute creation lay aside their animosities and antipathies when 
pressed by an instant and common danger. The beach under 
Halket-head, rapidly diminishing in extent by the encroachments 
of the spring-tide and a north-west wind, was in like manner a 
neutral field, where even a justice of peace and a strolling mendi- 
cant might meet upon terms of mutual forbearance. 



234 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

"Turn back! turn back!" exclaimed the vagrant; "why did 
ye not turn when I waved to you? " 

"We thought," replied Sir Arthur in great agitation, "'we 
thought we could get round Halket-head." 

" Halket-head ! the tide will be running on Halket-head by this 
time like the Fall of Fyers ! It was a' I could do to get round it 
twenty minutes since ; it was coming in three feet abreast. We will 
maybe get back by Bally-burgh Ness Point yet. The Lord help 
us ! it's our only chance. We can but try." 

" My God, my child ! " — " My father, my dear father ! " ex- 
claimed the parent and daughter, as, fear lending them strength 
and speed, they turned to retrace their steps, and endeavored to 
double the point, the projection of which formed the southern 
extremity of the bay. 

" I heard ye were here, frae the bit callant ye sent to meet your 
carriage," said the beggar, as he trudged stoutly on a step or two 
behind Miss Wardour, " and I couldna bide to think o' the dainty 
young leddy's peril, that has aye been kind to ilka forlorn heart 
that cam near her. Sae I lookit at the lift and the rin o' the tide, 
till I settled it that if I could get down time enough to gie you 
warning, we wad do weel yet. But I doubt, I doubt, I have been 
beguiled, for what mortal ee ever saw sic a race as the tide is rui- 
ning e'en now? See, yonder's the Ratton's Skeary — he aye held 
his neb abune the water in my day — but he's aneath it now." 

Sir Arthur cast a look in the direction in which the old man 
pointed. A huge rock, which in general, even in spring-tides dis- 
played a hulk like the keel of a large vessel, was now quite under 
water, and its place only indicated by the boiling and breaking of 
the eddying waves which encountered its submarine resistance. 

" Mak' haste, mak' haste, my bonny leddy," continued the old 
man, " mak' haste, and we may do yet ! Take haud o' my arm — 
an auld and frail arm it's now, but it's been in as sair stress as 
this is yet. Take haud o' my arm, my winsome leddy ! D' ye see 
yon wee black speck amang the wallowing waves yonder? This 



677? WALTER SCOTT. 235 

morning it was as high as the mast o' a brig — it's sma' eneugh 
now — but, while I see as muckle black about it as the crown o' 
my hat, I winna believe but we'll get round the Bally-burgh Ness, 
for a' that's come and gane yet." 

Isabella, in silence, accepted from the old man the assistance 
which Sir Arthur was less able to afford her. The waves had now 
encroached so much upon the beach, that the firm and smooth 
footing which they had hitherto had on the sand, must be ex- 
changed for a rougher path close to the foot of the precipice, and 
in some places even raised upon its lower ledges. It would have 
been utterly impossible for Sir Arthur Wardour and his daughter 
to have found their way along these shelves without the guidance 
and encouragement of the beggar, who had been there before in 
high tides, though never, he acknowledged, " in sae awsome a night 
as this." 

It was indeed a dreadful evening. The howling of the storm 
mingled with the shrieks of the sea- fowl, and sounded like the 
dirge of the three devoted beings who, pent between two of 
the most magnificent yet most dreadful objects of nature — a 
raging tide and an insurmountable precipice — toiled along their 
painful and dangerous path, often lashed by the spray of some 
giant billow, which threw itself higher on the beach than those 
that had preceded it. Each minute did their enemy gain ground 
perceptibly upon them. Still, however, loath to relinquish the last 
hopes of life, they bent their eyes on the black rock pointed out 
by Ochiltree. It was yet distinctly visible among the breakers, and 
continued to be so, until they came to a turn in their precarious 
path, where an intervening projection of rock hid it from their 
sight. 

Deprived of the view of the beacon on which they had relied, 
they now experienced the double agony of terror and suspense. 
They struggled forward, however ; but when they arrived at the 
point from which they ought to have seen the crag, it was no longer 
visible. The signal of safety was lost among a thousand white 



236 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

breakers, which, dashing upon the point of the promontory, rose 
in prodigious sheets of snowy foam, as high as the mast of a first- 
rate man-of-war, against the dark brow of the precipice. 

The countenance of the old man fell. Isabella gave a faint 
shriek, and " God have mercy upon us ! " which her guide sol- 
emnly uttered, was piteously echoed by Sir Arthur — " My child ! 
my child ! — to die such a death ! " 

" My father ! my dear father ! " his daughter exclaimed, cling- 
ing to him ; " and you too, who have lost your own life in endeav- 
oring to save ours ! " 

" That's not worth the counting," said the old man. " I hae 
lived to be weary of life ; and here or yonder — at the back o' a 
dyke, in a wreath o' snaw, or in the wame o' a wave, what signifies 
how the auld gaberlunzie dies? " 

"Good man," said Sir Arthur, "can you think of nothing? — • 
of no help ? I'll make you rich — I'll give you a farm — I'll " — 

" Our riches will be soon equal," said the beggar, looking out 
upon the strife of the water; " they are sae already, for I hae nae 
land, and you would give your fair bounds and barony for a square 
yard of rock that would be dry for twal hours." 

While they exchanged these words, they paused upon the high- 
est ledge of rock to which they could attain ; for it seemed that 
any further attempt to move forward could only serve to anticipate 
their fate. Here, then, they were to await the sure though slow 
progress of the raging element, something in the situation of the 
martyrs of the early church, who, exposed by heathen tyrants to 
be slain by wild beasts, were compelled for a time to witness the 
impatience and rage by which the animals were agitated, while 
awaiting the signal for undoing their grates, and letting them loose 
upon the victims. 

Yet even this fearful pause gave Isabella time to collect the 
powers of a mind naturally strong and courageous, and which 
rallied itself at this terrible juncture. " Must we yield life," she 
said, " without a struggle? Is there no path, however dreadful, by 



S/7? WALTER SCOTT. 237 

which we could climb the crag, or at least attain some height 
above the tide, where we could remain till morning, or till help 
comes? They must be aware of our situation, and will raise the 
country to relieve us." 

Sir Arthur, who heard, but scarcely comprehended, his daughter's 
question, turned, nevertheless, instinctively and eagerly to the old 
man, as if their lives were in his gift. Ochiltree paused. " I was 
a bauld craigsman," he said, " ance in my life, and mony a kitty- 
wake's and lungie's nest hae I harried up amang thae very black 
rocks ; but it's lang, king syne, and nae mortal could speel them 
without a rope, — and if I had ane, my eesight, and my footstep, 
and my hand-grip, hae a' failed mony a day sinsyne, — and then 
how could I save you ? But there was a path here ance, though 
maybe, if we could see it, ye would rather bide where we are. 
His name be praised ! " he ejaculated suddenly, " there's ane com- 
ing down the crag e'en now ! " Then, exalting his voice, he 
hilloa'd out to the daring adventurer such instructions as his former 
practice, and the remembrance of local circumstances, suddenly 
forced upon his mind : " Ye're right, ye're right ! — that gate, that 
gate ! — fasten the rope weel round Crummie's-horn ; that's the 
muckle black stane — cast twa plies round it — that's it ! — now, 
weize yourseF a wee easel-ward — a wee mair yet to that ither 
stane — we ca'd it the Cat's-lug — there used to be the root o' an 
aik-tree there. That will do ! — canny now, lad ! canny now — 
tak' tent and tak' time — Lord bless ye ! tak' time. Very weel ! 
Now ye maun get to Bessy's Apron, that's the muckle braid flat 
blue stane ; and then I think, wP your help and the two thegither, 
I'll win at ye, and then we'll be able to get up the young leddy 
and Sir Arthur." 

The adventurer, following the directions of old Edie, flung him 
down the end of the rope, which he secured around Miss Wardour, 
wrapping her previously in his own blue gown, to preserve her as 
much as possible from injury. Then, availing himself of the rope, 
which was made fast at the other end, he began to ascend the face 



238 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

of the crag — a most precarious and dizzy undertaking, which, 
however, after one or two perilous escapes, placed him safe on the 
broad flat stone beside our friend Lovel. Their joint strength was 
able to raise Isabella to the place of safety which they had attained. 
Lovel then descended in order to assist Sir Arthur, around whom 
he adjusted the rope ; and again mounting to their place of refuge, 
with the assistance of old Ochiltree, and such aid as Sir Arthur 
himself could afford, he raised himself beyond the reach of the 
billows. 

The sense of reprieve from approaching and apparently inev- 
itable death, had its usual effect. The father and daughter threw 
themselves into each other's arms, kissed, and wept for joy, al- 
though their escape was connected with the prospect of passing 
a tempestuous night upon a precipitous ledge of rock, which 
scarce afforded footing for the four shivering beings who now, like 
the sea-fowl around them, clung there in hopes Of some shelter 
from the devouring element which raged beneath. The spray of 
the billows, which attained in fearful succession the foot of the 
precipice, overflowing the beach on which they so lately stood, 
flew as high as their place of temporary refuge ; and the stunning 
sound with which they dashed against the rocks beneath, seemed 
as if they still demanded the fugitives, in accents of thunder, as 
their destined prey. 

It was a summer night doubtless ; yet the probability was slen- 
der that a frame so delicate as that of Miss Wardour should survive 
till morning, the drenching of the spray, and the dashing of the 
rain, which now burst in full violence, accompanied with deep and 
heavy gusts of wind, added to the constrained and perilous cir- 
cumstances of their situation. 

" The lassie — the puir sweet lassie," said the old man ; " mony 
such a night have I weathered at hame and abroad, but God guide 
us, how can she ever win through it ! " 

His apprehension was communicated in smothered accents to 
Lovel ; for, with the sort of freemasonry by which bold and ready 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 239 

spirits correspond in moments of danger, and become almost in- 
stinctively known to each other, they had established a mutual 
confidence. " I'll climb up the cliff again," said Lovel, " there's 
daylight enough left to see my footing ; I'll climb up and call for 
more assistance." 

" Do so, do so, for Heaven's sake ! " said Sir Arthur, eagerly. 

" Are ye mad? " said the mendicant ; " Francie o' Fowlsheugh, 
and he was the best craigsman that ever speel'd heugh (mair by 
token he brake his neck upon the Dunbuy of Slaines), wadna hae 
ventured upon the Halket-head craigs .-after sundown. It's God's 
grace, and a great wonder besides, that ye are not in the middle 
o' that roaring sea wi* what ye hae done already. I didna think 
there was the man left alive would hae come down the craigs as 
ye did. I question an' I could hae done it myseP, at this hour 
and in this weather, in the youngest and yaldest of my strength. 
But to venture up again, — it's a mere and a clear tempting of 
Providence." 

" I have no fear," answered Lovel ; " I marked all the stations 
perfectly as I came down, and there is still light enough left to see 
them quite well ; I am sure I can do it with perfect safety. Stay 
here, my good friend, by Sir Arthur and the young lady." 

" Deil be in my feet then," answered the bedesman, sturdily, 
" if ye gang, I'll gang too ; for between the twa o' us, we'll hae 
mair than wark eneugh to get to the tap o' the heugh." 

" No, no ; stay you here and attend to Miss Wardour. You see 
Sir Arthur is quite exhausted." 

" Stay yoursel' then, and I'll gae," said the old man. " Let 
death spare the green corn, and take the ripe." 

"Stay both of you, I charge you," said Isabella, faintly. "I 
am well, and can spend the night very well here ; I feel quite re- 
freshed." So saying, her voice failed her; she sank down, and 
would have fallen from the crag, had she not been supported by 
Lovel and Ochiltree, who placed her in a posture half sitting, half 
reclining, beside her father, who, exhausted by fatigue of body 



240 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

and mind so extreme and unusual, had already sat down on a stone 
in a sort of stupor. 

"It is impossible to leave them," said Lovel. "What is to be 
done? Hark ! hark ! Did I not hear a halloo? " 

" The skriegh of a Jammie Norie," answered Ochiltree ; " I ken 
the skirl week" 

" No, by Heaven ! " replied Lovel ; " it was a human voice." 

A distant hail was repeated, the sound plainly distinguishable 
among the various elemental noises, and the clang of the sea- 
mews by which they were surrounded. The mendicant and Lovel 
exerted their voices in a loud halloo, the former waving Miss War- 
dour's handkerchief on the end of his staff to make them con- 
spicuous from above. Though the shouts were repeated, it was 
some time before they were in exact response to their own, leaving 
the unfortunate sufferers uncertain whether, in the darkening twi- 
light and increasing storm, they had made the persons, who appar- 
ently were traversing the verge of the precipice to bring them 
assistance, sensible of the place in which they had found refuge. 
At length their halloo was regularly and distinctly answered, and 
their courage confirmed, by the assurance that they were within 
hearing, if not within reach, of friendly assistance. 



ALFRED TENNYSON. 24 1 



CHAPTER XVII. 

ALFRED TENNYSON (1809). 

" Not of the howling dervishes of song, 
Who craze the brain with their delirious dance, 

Art thou, O sweet historian of the heart ! 
Therefore to thee the laurel leaves belong, 
To thee our love and our allegiance, 

For thy allegiance to the poet's art." — Longfellow. 

Alfred Tennyson, one of the greatest poets of our 
times, was born in 1809 at Somersby, in Lincolnshire, 
England, of which place his father was rector. He was 
the third of a large family, several other members of which 
shared with him in some measure the genius which has 
won for him his undisputed rank as the first English poet 
of his time. While a student at Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge, in 1829, Tennyson gained the chancellor's medal 
by a poem in blank verse, entitled "Timbuctoo," in which 
there is plainly to be seen some impress of his peculiar 
genius. His literary career, however, may properly be 
said to date from 1830, in which year a volume appeared 
called " Poems, chiefly Lyrical." It contained many ex- 
quisite pieces, and clearly marked the advent ot a true poet; 
yet it was not received with great favor by the public. 

Three years afterward another volume made its appear- 
ance ; and it too, though rich in poetic thought, failed to 
awaken public interest, and received unkindly criticism at 



242 



FIRST STEPS TV ENGUSH CTASSICS. 



the hands of the reviewers. For nine years thereafter the 
world heard nothing of Tennyson. In 1842, however, a 
third effort was made to win favor by the publication of 
two volumes of poems. The effort was successful, the 
path to fame and fortune was open before him ; and to the 
encouragement he then received we are largely indebted 
for the splendid poems which have since proceeded from 
his pen. Onward from this time the reputation of the 

poet slowly but surely ex- 
tended itself. In 1847 a P" 
peared " The Princess, a 
Medley;" and in 1850, "In 
Mernoriam," a tribute of af- 
fection to the memory of 
Arthur Hallam, the chosen 
friend of the poet in his 
I earlier years at Cambridge. 
On the death of Words- 
worth, in 1850, Tennyson 
succeeded him as poet- 
laureate. In 1855 appeared 
" Maud, and other Poems," 
which added nothing to the 
poet's fame. "The Idyls of the King," published in 1859, 
was everywhere received with enthusiasm. These poems 
at once took rank as some of the noblest in our language. 
In 1864 Tennyson published a volume containing "Enoch 
Arden," one of his most finished and successful works ; 
"Aylmer's Field;" a short piece, "Tithonus," remarkable 
for its beauty and finish. "The Holy Grail," and other 
poems, appeared in 1870; and in 1872, "The Tournament," 
and " Gareth and Lynette." During the period from 1869 




ALFRED TENNYSON. 



ALFRED TENNYSON. 243 

to 1872, the second series of the "Idyls of the King" was 
published. In 1875 Tennyson published a drama called 
"Queen Mary;" two years later, "The Lover's Tale," be- 
gun, and a fragment printed, in 1833, anc ^ a second drama 
entitled "Harold." "Ballads," a score of poems, appeared 
in 1880, since which time the poet-laureate has made occa- 
sional contributions to the leading periodicals. 

Tennyson's poetry is pure, tender, ennobling. No blot, 
no stain, mars its beauty. His verse is the most faultless 
in our language, both as regards the music of its flow, and 
the art displayed in the choice of words. As a painter, 
no modern poet has equalled him. His portraits and 
ideas of women are the most delicate in the whole range 
of English poetry. His language, although consisting for 
the most part of strong and pithy Saxon words, is yet the 
very perfection of all that is elegant and musical in the art 
of versification. The pleasure which his poetry gives 
springs largely from the cordial interest he displays in the 
life and pursuits of men, in his capacity for apprehending 
their higher and more beautiful aspirations, and in a cer- 
tain purity and strength of spiritual feeling. 

Caroline Fox, in her "Memories of Old Friends," says 
that "Tennyson is a grand specimen of a man, with a 
magnificent head set on his shoulders, like the capital of 
a mighty pillar. His hair is long and wavy, and covers a 
massive head. He wears a beard and mustache, which one 
begrudges as hiding so much of that firm, powerful, but 
finely chiselled mouth. His eyes are large and gray, and 
open wide when a subject interests him ; they are well 
shaded by. the noble brow, with its strong lines of thought 
and suffering." 



244 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



ULYSSES. 

It little profits that, an idle king, 

By this still hearth, among these barren crags, 

Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole 

Unequal laws unto a savage race, 

That hoard and sleep and feed, and know not me. 5 

I cannot rest from travel : I will drink 

Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed 

Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those 

That loved me, and alone : on shore, and when 

Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades IO 

Vexed the dim sea. I am become a name ; 

For, always roaming with a hungry heart, 

Much have I seen and known, — cities of men, 

And manners, climates, councils, governments 

(Myself not least, but honored of them all), — 3 5 

And drunk delight of battle with my peers 

Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. 

I am a part of all that I have met ; 

Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' 

Gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades 2n 

Forever and forever when I move. 

How dull it is to pause, to make an end, 

To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! 

As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life 

Were all too little, and of one to me 2 5 

Little remains ; but every hour is saved 

From that eternal silence, — something more, 

A bringer of new things ; and vile it were 

For some three suns to store and hoard myself, 

And this gray spirit yearning in desire 3° 



ALFRED TENNYSON. 245 

To follow knowledge, like a sinking star, 
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. 

This is my son, mine own Telemachus, 
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle, — 
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil 35 

This labor, by slow prudence to make mild 
A rugged people, and through soft degrees 
Subdue them to the useful and the good. 
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere 
Of common duties, decent not to fail 4° 

In offices of tenderness, and pay 
Meet adoration to my household gods, 
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. 

There lies the port ; the vessel puffs her sail ; 
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, 45 

Souls that have toiled and wrought and thought with me, 
That ever with a frolic welcome took 
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed 
Free hearts, free foreheads, — you and I are old. 
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. 5° 

Death closes all ; but something ere the end, 
Some work of noble note, may yet be done, 
Not unbecoming men that strove with gods. 
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks ; 
The long day wanes ; the slow moon climbs ; the deep 55 
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. 
Push off, and, sitting well in order, smite 
The sounding furrows ; for my purpose holds 
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 6c 

Of all the western stars, until I die. 
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down ; 
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, 
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. 



246 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Though much is taken, much abides ; and though 65 

We are not now that strength which in old days 

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are : 

One equal temper of heroic hearts, 

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. 70 



SIR GALAHAD. 

My good blade carves the casques of men, 

My tough lance thrusteth sure, • 
My strength is as the strength of ten, 

Because my heart is pure. 
The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, 

The hard brands shiver on the steel, 
The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly, 

The horse and rider reel : 
They reel, they roll in clanging lists, 

And when the tide of combat stands, 
Perfume and flowers fall in showers, 

That lightly rain from ladies' hands. 

How sweet are looks that ladies bend 

On whom their favors fall ! 
For them I battle till the end, 

To save from shame and thrall ; 
But all my heart is drawn above, 

My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine ; 
I never felt the kiss of love, 

Nor maiden's hand in mine. 
More bounteous aspects on me beam, 

Me mightier transports move and thrill ; 
So keep I fair through faith and prayer 

A virgin heart in work and will. 



ALFRED TEXXYSOX. 247 

When down the stormy crescent goes, 2 T 

A light before me swims, 
Between dark stems the forest slows, 

I hear a noise of hymns ; 
Then by some secret shrine I ride ; 

I hear a voice, but none are there j 3° 

The stalls are void, the doors are wide, 

The tapers burning fair. 
Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth, 

The silver vessels sparkle clean, 
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, 35 

And solemn chants resound between. 

Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres 

I find a magic bark ; 
I leap on board ; no helmsman steers ; 

I float till all is dark. 4° 

A gentle sound, an awful light ! 

Three angels bear the holy Grail : 
With folded feet, in stoles of white, 

On sleeping wings they sail. 
Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God ! 45 

My spirit beats her mortal bars, 
As down dark tides the glory slides, 

And star-like mingles with the stars. 

When on my goodly charger borne 

Through dreaming towns I go, 5° 

The cock crows ere the Christmas morn, 

The streets are dumb with snow. 
The tempest crackles on the leads, 

And, ringing, springs from brand and mail ; 
But o'er the dark a glory spreads, 55 

And gilds the driving hail. 



248 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

I leave the plain, I climb the height ; 

No branchy thicket shelter yields ; 
But blessed forms in whistling storms 

Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields. 6o 

A maiden knight — to me is given 

Such hope, I know not fear ; 
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven 

That often meet me here. 
I muse on joy that will not cease, 65 

Pure spaces clothed in living beams, 
Pure lilies of eternal peace, 

Whose odors haunt my dreams ; 
And, stricken by an angel's hand, 

This mortal armor that I wear, 7° 

This weight and size, this heart and eyes, 

Are touched, are turned to finest air. 

The clouds are broken in the sky, 

And through the mountain walls 
A rolling organ-harmony 75 

Swells up, and shakes and falls. 
Then move the trees, the copses nod, 

Wings flutter, voices hover clear : 
" O just and faithful knight of God ! 

Ride on ! the prize is near." 8o 

So pass I hostel, hall, and grange ; 

By bridge and ford, by park and pale, 
All armed I ride, whate'er betide, 

Until I find the Holy Grail. 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 249 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

JOSEPH ADDISON (1672-1719). 

"Give days and nights, sir, to the study of Addison, if you mean to be a good 
writer, or, what is more worth, an honest man." — Dr. Johnson. 

Joseph Addison, the great English prose writer, was 
born in 1672, at Milston, near Amesbury, England, of 
which place his father was rector. He received his earlier 
education at the Charter House, in London ; from which 
school he passed, at the age of fifteen, to the University 
of Oxford, where he had a distinguished career. Some 
eulogistic verses of his upon William the Third obtained 
him, through the influence of two of his college friends, 
a government pension of three hundred pounds a year. 
Thus furnished with the necessary funds, Addison re- 
solved to add to his scholarly attainments — as was then 
the custom with all scholars who could afford it — by 
travelling on the Continent. His pension ceased at the 
death of William ; but he again commended himself to 
royalty in the person of Queen Anne, and was appointed 
Commissioner of Appeals in consideration of his having 
glorified in "The Campaign" the military triumphs of 
Marlborough. He was subsequently appointed to the 
post of secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, and 
went to that country to reside. In the mean time, his 
friend Richard Steele, who had been his schoolfellow at 



250 



FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



the Charter House, had started a serial publication called 
the " Tatler." It appeared three times a week, and in each 
issue gave a short magazine article, and a brief digest of 
contemporary news. Addison was a frequent contributor 
to this periodical. 

At the end of two years it became extinct ; and a daily 
sheet called the " Spectator " was started, to which Addi- 
son contributed a series of prose articles and sketches 

that were highly and de- 
servedly popular. They con- 
sisted of essays and short 
articles on a great variety of 
subjects. These were happy 
imitations of Arabian tales, 
thoughtful meditations, criti- 
cisms for the guidance of the 
public taste, and humorous 





JOSEPH ADDISON. 



sketches of the characters 
* commonly to be met with in 

the society of the time. 

Among the best of these are 
the papers that refer to Sir Roger de Coverley, a good old 
country squire. The " Spectator " was issued six hun- 
dred and thirty-five times ; but these issues were not 
consecutive, there being once during its career a period 
of eighteen months in which it did not appear, and in 
which its place was supplied by a somewhat similar serial 
called the "Guardian," in which Addison and Steele were 
the leading writers. In 171 3 Addison's literary career 
reached its zenith, in the publication of his tragedy of 
"Cato." When put upon the stage, this play met with 
an enviable success ; but modern criticism has pronounced 



JOSEPH ADD I SOX. 25 I 

it sadly deficient in plot as well as in delineation of 
character. 

In 1716 he married the Countess of Warwick; but, as 
was the case with Dryclen, the high-born lady's temper 
prevented her husband from enjoying any thing like 
domestic happiness. He was for some time a member 
of the House of Commons, but he was naturally so timid 
that he made but a poor appearance there. His death 
took place in 1 719. The personal character of this great 
man was that of a kind and amiable gentleman, who lived 
an almost stainless life. His style is esteemed the best 
example of English composition. It is pure, simple, and 
elegant. His humor is quiet and refined, his satire 
kindly, and his teaching full of those lessons that make 
us wiser men and better members of society. 



VISIT TO SIR ROGER IN THE COUNTRY. 

[From The Spectator, No. 106, Monday, July 2, 171 1.] 

Having often received an invitation from my friend Sir Roger 
de Coverley to pass away a month with him in the country, I last 
week accompanied him thither, and am settled with him for some 
time at his country-house, where I intend to form several of my 
ensuing speculations. Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted 
with my humor, lets me rise and go to bed when I please ; dine 
at his own table or in my chamber, as I think fit ; sit still and say 
nothing, without bidding me be merry. When the gentlemen of 
the country come to see him, he only shows me at a distance. As 
I have been walking in his fields, I have observed them stealing 
a sight of me over a hedge, and have heard the knight desiring 
them not to let me see them, for that I hated to be stared at. 



252 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

I am the more at ease in Sir Roger's family because it consists 
of sober and staid persons ; for, as the knight is the best master 
in the world, he seldom changes his servants ; and, as he is be- 
loved by all about him, his servants never care for leaving him : 
by this means his domestics are all in years, and grown old with 
their master. You would take his valet-de-chambre for his brother ; 
his butler is gray-headed ; his groom is one of the gravest men 
that I have ever seen ; and the coachman has the looks of a privy- 
councillor. You see the goodness of the master even in the old 
house-dog, and in a gray pad that is kept in the stable with great 
care and tenderness out of regard to his past services, though he 
has been useless for several years. 

I could not but observe with a great deal of pleasure the joy 
that appeared in the countenances of these ancient domestics 
upon my friend's arrival at his country-seat. Some of them could 
not refrain from tears at the sight of their old master : every one 
of them pressed forward to do something for him, and seemed 
discouraged if they were not employed. At the same time, the 
good old knight, with a mixture of the father and the master of 
the family, tempered the inquiries after his own affairs with several 
kind questions relating to themselves. This humanity and good 
nature engages everybody to him ; so that, when he is pleasant 
upon any of them, all his family are in good humor, and none so 
much as the person whom he_diverts himself with : on the con- 
trary, if he coughs, or betrays any infirmity of old age, it is easy 
for a stander-by to observe a secret concern in the looks of all his 
servants. 

My worthy friend has put me under the particular care of his 
butler, who is a very prudent man, and, as well as the rest of 
his fellow-servants, wonderfully desirous of pleasing me, because 
they have often heard their master talk of me as of his particular 
friend. 

My chief companion, when Sir Roger is diverting himself in 
the woods or the fields is a very venerable man, who is ever with 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 253 

Sir Roger, and has lived at his house in the nature of a chaplain 
above thirty years. This gentleman is a person of good sense 
and some learning, of a very regular life and obliging conversation. 
He heartily loves Sir Roger, and knows that he is very much in 
the old knight's esteem : so that he lives in the family rather as a 
relation than a dependant. 

I have observed in several of my papers that my friend Sir 
Roger, amidst all his good qualities, is something of a humorist ; 
and that his virtues, as well as imperfections, are, as it were, 
tinged by a certain extravagance which makes them particularly 
his, and distinguishes them from those of other men. This cast 
of mind, as it is generally very innocent in itself, so it renders his 
conversation highly agreeable, and more delightful than the same 
degree of sense and virtue would appear in their common and 
ordinary colors. As I was walking with him last night, he asked 
me how I liked the good man whom I have just now mentioned, 
and, without staying for my answer, told me that he was afraid of 
being insulted with Latin and Greek at his own table ; for which 
reason he desired a particular friend of his at the university to 
find him out a clergyman rather of plain sense than much learn- 
ing, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and, if 
possible, a man that understood a little of backgammon. " My 
friend," says Sir Roger, " found me out this gentleman, who, be- 
sides the endowments required of him, is, they tell me, a good 
scholar, though he does not show it. I have given him the par- 
sonage of the parish, and, because I know his value, have settled 
upon him a good annuity for life. If he outlives me, he shall find 
that he was higher in my esteem than perhaps he thinks he is. 
He has now been with me thirty years, and, though he does not 
know I have taken notice of it, has never in all that time asked 
any thing of me for himself; though he is every day soliciting me 
for something in behalf of one or other of my tenants, his pa- 
rishioners. There has not been a lawsuit in the parish since he 
has lived among them. If any dispute arises, they apply them- 



254 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

selves to him for the decision : if they do not acquiesce in his 
judgment, which I think never happened above once or twice at 
most, they appeal to me. At his first settling with me, I made 
him a present of all the good sermons which have been printed 
in English, and only begged of him that every Sunday he would 
pronounce one of them in the pulpit. Accordingly, he has 
digested them into such a series, that they follow one another 
naturally, and make a continued system of practical divinity." 

As Sir Roger was going on in his story, the gentleman we were 
talking of came up to us ; and, upon the knight's asking him who 
preached to-morrow (for it was Saturday night), told us, the Bish- 
op of St. Asaph in the morning, and Dr. South in the afternoon. 
He then showed us his list of preachers for the whole year, where 
I saw, with a great deal of pleasure, Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop 
Saunderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy, with several living authors, 
who have published discourses of practical divinity. I no sooner 
saw this venerable man in the pulpit than I very much approved 
of my friend's insisting upon the qualifications of a good aspect 
and a clear voice ; for I was so charmed with the gracefulness of 
his figure and delivery, as well as with the discourses he pro- 
nounced, that I think I never passed any time more to my 
satisfaction. A sermon repeated after this manner is like the 
composition of a poet in the mouth of a graceful actor. 

I could heartily wish that more of our country clergy would 
follow this example, and, instead of wasting their spirits in labori- 
ous compositions of their own, would endeavor after a handsome 
elocution, and all those other talents that are proper to enforce 
what has been penned by great masters. This would not only be 
more easy to themselves, but more edifying to the people. 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 255 

SIR ROGER AT CHURCH. 

[From The Spectator, No. 112, Monday, July 9, 1711.] 

I am always very well pleased with a country Sunday, and think. 
if keeping holy the seventh day were only a human institution, it 
would be the best method that could have been thought of for 
the polishing and civilizing of mankind. It is certain that coun- 
try people would soon degenerate into a kind of savages and 
barbarians, were there not such frequent returns of a stated time, 
in which the whole village meet together with their best faces, 
and in their cleanliest habits, to converse with one another upon 
different subjects, hear their duties explained to them, and join 
together in adoration of the Supreme Being. Sunday clears away 
the rust of the whole week, not only as it refreshes in their 
minds the notions of religion, but as it puts both the sexes upon 
appearing in their most agreeable forms, and exerting all such 
qualities as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the village. 
A country fellow distinguishes himself as much in the churchyard 
as a citizen does upon the Change ; the whole parish politics being 
generally discussed in that place, either after sermon, or before 
the bell rings. 

My friend Sir Roger, being a good Churchman, has beautified 
the inside of his church with several texts of his own choosing. 
He has likewise -given a handsome pulpit-cloth, and railed in the 
communion-table at his own expense. He has often told me, that, 
at his coming to his estate, he found his parishioners very irregular ; 
and that, in order to make them kneel and join in the responses, 
he gave every one of them a hassock, and a common-prayer book, 
and at the same time employed an itinerant singing-master (who 
goes about the country for that purpose) to instruct them rightly 
in the tunes of the Psalms; upon which they now very much 
value themselves, and indeed outdo most of the country churches 
that I have ever heard. 



256 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps 
them in very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it 
besides himself; for if, by chance, he has been surprised into a 
short nap at sermon, upon recovering out of it he stands up and 
looks about him, and, if he sees anybody else nodding, either 
wakes them himself, or sends his servants to them. Several other 
of the old knight's particularities break out upon these occasions. 
Sometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in the singing 
Psalms half a minute after the rest of the congregation have done 
with it. Sometimes, when he is pleased with the matter of his 
devotion, he pronounces " Amen " three or four times to the same 
prayer ; and sometimes stands up, when everybody else is upon 
their knees, to count the congregation, or see if any of his tenants 
are missing. 

I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend, in 
the midst of the service, calling out to one John Matthews to 
mind what he was about, and not disturb the congregation. This 
John Matthews, it seems, is remarkable for being an idle fellow ; 
and, at that time, was kicking his heels for his diversion. This 
authority of the knight, though exerted in that odd manner which 
accompanies him in all the circumstances of life, has a very good 
effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to see any thing 
ridiculous in his behavior : besides that, the general good sense 
and worthiness of his character make his friends observe these 
little singularities as foils that rather set off than blemish his good 
qualities. 

As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes to stir till 
Sir Roger is gone out of the church. The knight walks down 
from his seat in the chancel between a double row of his tenants 
that stand bowing to him on each side, and every now and then 
inquires how such a one's wife or mother or son or father does 
whom he does not see at church ; which is understood as a secret 
reprimand to the person that is absent. 

The chaplain has often told me, that upon a catechising day, 



JOSEPH ADD IS OX. 257 

when Sir Roger has been pleased with a boy that answers well, he 
has ordered a Bible to be given him next day for his encourage- 
ment, and sometimes accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to 
his mother. Sir Roger has likewise added five pounds a year to 
the clerk's place ; and, that he may encourage the young fellows 
to make themselves perfect in the church-service, has promised, 
upon the death of the present incumbent, who is very old, to 
bestow it according to merit. 



DEATH OF SIR ROGER. 

[From The Spectator, No. 517, Thursday, Oct. 23, 1712.] 

We last night received a piece of ill news at our club, which 
very sensibly afflicted every one of us. I question not but my 
readers themselves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To 
keep them no longer in suspense, Sir Roger de Coverley is dead. 
He departed this life, at his house in the country, after a few 
weeks' sickness. Sir Andrew Freeport has a letter from one of 
his correspondents in those parts, that informs him the old man 
caught a cold at the county-sessions, as he was very warmly 
promoting an address of his own penning, in which he succeeded 
according to his wishes. But this particular comes from a Whig 
justice of peace, who was always Sir Roger's enemy and antago- 
nist. I have letters both from the chaplain and Captain Sentry, 
which mention nothing of it, but are filled with many particulars 
to the honor of the good old man. I have likewise a letter from 
the butler, who took so much care of me last summer, when I 
was at the knight's house. As my friend the butler mentions, in 
the simplicity of his heart, several circumstances the others have 
passed over in silence, I shall give my reader a copy of this letter, 
without any alteration or diminution : — 

Honored Sir, — Knowing that you was my old master's good friend, 
I could not forbear sending you the melancholy news of his death, which 
has afflicted the whole country as well as his poor servants, who loved him, 



258 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

I may say, better than we did our lives. I am afraid he caught his death at 
the last county-sessions, where he would go to see justice done to a poor 
widow woman and her fatherless children, that had been wronged by a 
neighboring gentleman ; for you know, my good master was always the poor 
man's friend. Upon his coming home, the first complaint he made was, that 
he had lost his roast-beef stomach, not being able to touch a sirloin, which 
was served up according to custom ; and you know he used to take great 
delight, in it. From that time forward he grew worse and worse, but still kept 
a good heart to the last. Indeed, we were once in great hope of his recovery, 
upon a kind message that was sent him from the widow lady whom he had 
made love to the forty last years of his life ; but this only proved a lightning 
before his death. He has bequeathed to this lady, as a token of his love, a 
great pearl necklace, and a couple of silver bracelets set with jewels, which 
belonged to my good old lady his mother. He has bequeathed the fine 
white gelding, that he used to ride a-hunting upon, to his chaplain, because 
he thought he would be kind to him ; and has left you all his books. He 
has moreover bequeathed to the chaplain a very pretty tenement, with good 
lands about it. It being a very cold day when he made his will, he left for 
mourning, to every man in the parish, a great frieze coat, and to every 
woman a black riding-hood. 

It was a moving sight to see him take leave of his poor servants, com- 
mending us all for our fidelity, while we were not able to speak a word for 
weeping. As we, most of us, are grown gray-headed in our dear master's 
service, he has left us pensions and legacies, which we may live very com- 
fortably upon the remaining part of our days. He has bequeathed a great 
deal more in charity, which is not yet come to my knowledge ; and it is per- 
emptorily said in the parish that he has left money to build a steeple to the 
church ; for he was heard to say some time ago, that if he lived two years 
longer, Coverley church should have a steeple to it. The chaplain tells 
everybody he made a very good end, and never speaks of him without 
tears. 

He was buried, according to his own directions, among the family of the 
Coverleys, on the left hand of his father, Sir Arthur. The coffin was carried 
by six of his tenants, and the pall held up by six of the quorum. The whole 
parish followed the corpse, with heavy hearts, and in their mourning suits; 
the men in frieze, and the women in riding-hoods. Captain Sentry, my 
master's nephew, has taken possession of the Hall-house and the whole 
estate. When my old master saw him a little before his death, he shook him 
by the hand, and wished him joy of the estate which was falling to him, de- 
siring him only to make a good use of it, and to pay the several legacies and 
the gifts of charity, which he told him he had left as quit-rents upon the 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 259 

estate The captain truly seems a courteous man, though he says but little. 
He makes much of those whom my master loved, and shows great kindness 
to the old house-dog that you know my poor master was so fond of. It 
would have gone to your heart to have heard the moans the dumb creature 
made on the clay of my master's death. He has never joyed himself since ; 
no more has any of us. It was the melancholiest day for the poor people 
that ever happened in Worcestershire. 

This is ali from, honored sir, your most sorrowful servant. 

EDWARD BISCUIT. 

P. S. — My master desired, some weeks before he died, that a book, 
which comes up to you by the carrier, should be given to Sir Andrew 
Freeport in his name. 

This letter, notwithstanding the poor butler's manner of writing 
it, gave us such an idea of our good old friend, that upon the 
reading of it there was not a dry eye in the club. Sir Andrew, 
opening the book, found it to be a collection of Acts of Parlia- 
ment. There was in particular the Act of Uniformity, with some 
passages in it marked by Sir Roger's own hand. Sir Andrew 
found that they related to two or three points which he had dis- 
puted with Sir Roger the last time he appeared at the club. Sir 
Andrew, who would have been merry at such an incident on 
another occasion, at the sight of the old man's writing, burst into 
tears, and put the book in his pocket. Captain Sentry informs 
me that the knight has left rings and mourning for every one in 
the club. 



260 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER XIX. 
LORD BYRON (1788-1824). 

" Byron's poetry is great — great, it makes him truly great ; he has not so much 
greatness in himself." — Campbell. 

"The popularity of Byron, take it for all in all, was probably the most splendid 
that ever poet was applauded and flattered with. His song had larger audience over 
the earth ; and on that audience it exerted an unwonted fascination, swaying the 
feelings of multitudes, and making its words and music familiar on their lips." — 
Henry Reed. 

Lord Byron was born in London in 1788, and was the 
son of John Byron — a disreputable captain in the Guards 
— and Catherine Gordon, an Aberdeenshire heiress. The 
reckless captain soon spent his wife's fortune, and then 
left her and her son, the future poet, to get on as best 
they might. After some years of genteel poverty spent 
in Aberdeen, Byron, by the death of his grand-uncle, 
became a lord, and heir to Newstead Abbey. He was 
now sent to Harrow, and afterwards to Cambridge, where 
he broke the rules of the university and neglected his 
proper studies. 

In 1807, and while he was still at Cambridge, he issued 
a volume of poems entitled " Hours of Idleness," which 
was very severely dealt with by the "Edinburgh Review." 
This roused his wrath ; and in revenge he wrote " Eng- 
lish Bards and Scotch Reviewers," a satire, in which he 
not only lashed his reviewer, but also most of the notable 



LORD BYRON. 



26l 



authors of the clay — men who had never harmed him. 
After a short time, he felt ashamed of himself, and tried, 
though in vain, to suppress the poem. At the age of 
twenty-one he visited Spain, Greece, and Turkey, and 
produced the first two cantos of " Childe Harold," which 
took the public by storm ; and Byron was at once declared 
to be a prince among the poets. On his return to Lon- 
don he was rapturously 
received, and almost wor- 
shipped by his enthusias- 
tic admirers. This was in 
181 2; and during the fol- 
lowing three years he wrote 
" The Giaour," "Bride of 
Abydos," "Corsair," and 
"Lara," — narrative poems, 
describing the scenery of 
modern Greece, and the 
manners and passions of 
the people. 

In 1 8 1 5 he married Miss 
Milbanke, from whom he 

parted a year afterwards, the real cause of the separation 
being even now a mystery. The public of that day took 
it for granted that he had been cruel to her, and con- 
demned him as heartily as once they had applauded him. 
Abandoned by his wife, and detested by his countrymen, 
he left England, never more to return. He spent his time 
in travelling about from place to place, living a dissolute 
life, and occasionally sending home for publication the 
remaining cantos of "Childe Harold," and other poems. 
"Childe Harold" is comparatively free from the grave 




LORD BYRON. 



262 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

faults that belong to Byron's poems in general. In many 
respects it must be regarded as equal to the best efforts 
of English genius. There is reason to believe that his 
better nature revived during his last days. At least, we 
find him sympathizing with the down-trodden Greeks, and 
working hard to secure their independence. While so 
engaged, he fell a victim to a marsh-fever which he caught 
at Missolonghi, and died there, at the early age of thirty- 
six, in 1824. 

Byron's writings were at first gloomy and passionate ; 
later, they began to disclose a wonderful store of wit and 
humor ; and, at last, bright flashes of wit and touches of 
the tenderest pathos, bursts of eloquence and paroxysms 
of despair, were to be found in one and the same poem. 
In graphic power of description, in passionate energy, in 
grace and beauty of style, Byron was without a rival. 

The following is an extract from Thomas Moore's 
charming pen-picture of Byron : " In height he was five 
feet eight and a half. Of his face, the beauty may be 
pronounced to have been of the highest order. His eyes, 
though of a light gray, were capable of all extremes of 
expression ; his head was remarkably small ; his nose, 
though handsomely, was rather thickly, shaped ; his teeth 
were white and regular, and his complexion colorless ; his 
hands were very white and small. The lameness of 
his right foot, though an obstacle to grace, but little im- 
peded the activity of his movements." It was said that 
the wonderful beauty of his lips escaped every painter and 
sculptor. 



LORD BYRON. 263 



THE PRISONER OF CHILLON. 



My hair is gray, but not with years, 
Nor grew it white 
In a single night, 
As men's have grown from sudden fears : 
My limbs are bowed, though not with toil, 5 

But rusted with a vile repose, 
For they have been a dungeon's spoil, 

And mine has been the fate of those 
To whom the goodly earth and air 
Are banned and barred — forbidden fare. IO 

But this was for my father's faith 
I suffered chains and courted death ; 
That father perished at the stake 
For tenets he would not forsake ; 
And for the same his lineal race 35 

In darkness found a dwelling-place ; 
We were seven — who now are one. 

Six in youth, and one in age, 
Finished as they had begun, 

Proud of persecution's rage ; 20 

One in fire, and two in field, 
Their belief with blood have sealed, 
Dying as their father died, 
For the God their foes denied ; 

Three were in a dungeon cast, 25 

Of whom this wreck is left the last. 



There are seven pillars of Gothic mould 
In Chillon's dungeons deep and old, 



264 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

There are seven columns, massy and gray, 

Dim with a dull imprisoned ray, 3° 

A sunbeam which hath lost its way, 

And through the crevice and the cleft 

Of the thick wall is fallen and left ; 

Creeping over the floor so damp, 

Like a marsh's meteor lamp : 35 

And in each pillar there is a ring, 

And in each ring there is a chain ; 
That iron is a cankering thing, 

For in these limbs its teeth remain, 
With marks that will not wear away, 4° 

Till I have done with this new day, 
Which now is painful to these eyes, 
Which have not seen the sun so rise 
For years — I cannot count them o'er, 
I lost their long and heavy score 45 

When my last brother drooped and died, 
And I lay living by his side. 



m. 

They chained us each to a column stone, 

And we were three — yet, each alone ; 

We could not move a single pace, 5° 

We could not see each other's face, 

But with that pale and livid light 

That made us strangers in our sight : 

And thus together — yet apart, 

Fettered in hand, but joined in heart, 55 

'Twas still some solace, in the dearth 

Of the pure elements of earth, 

To hearken to each other's speech, 

And each turn comforter to each 



LORD BYRON. 265 

With some new hope, or legend old, 6o 

Or song heroically bold ; 

But even these at length grew cold. 

Our voices took a dreary tone, 

An echo of the dungeon stone, 

A grating sound — not full and free, 6 5 

As they of yore were wont to be : 

It might be fancy — but to me 
They never sounded like our own. 

IV. 

I was the eldest of the three, 

And to uphold and cheer the rest 7° 

I ought to do — and did — my best, 
And each did well in his degree. 

The youngest, whom my father loved, 
Because our mother's brow was given 
To him, with eyes as blue as heaven, 75 

For him my soul was sorely moved ; 
And truly might it be distressed 
To see such bird in such a nest ; 
For he was beautiful as day 

(When day was beautiful to me 8o 

As to young eagles, being free), — 

A polar day, which will not see 
A sunset till its summer's gone, 

Its sleepless summer of long light, * 

The snow-clad offspring of the sun : 8 5 

And thus he was as pure and bright, 
And in his natural spirit gay, 
With tears for nought but others' ills, 
And then they flowed like mountain rills, 
Unless he could assuage the woe 9° 

Which he abhorred to view below. 



266 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



The other was as pure of mind, 

But formed to combat with his kind ; 

Strong in his frame, and of a mood 

Which 'gainst the world in war had stood, 9: 

And perished in the foremost rank 

With joy ; but not in chains to pine : 
His spirit withered with their clank, 

I saw it silently decline — 

And so perchance in sooth did mine : I0 ° 

But yet I forced it on to cheer 
Those relics of a home so dear. 
He was a hunter of the hills, 

Had followed there the deer and wolf; 

To him his dungeon was a gulf, T °5 

And fettered feet the worst of ills. 

VI. 

Lake Leman lies by Chillon's walls : 
A thousand feet in depth below 
Its massy waters meet and flow ; 

Thus much the fathom-line was sent Tlc 

From Chillon's snow-white battlement, 

Which round about the wave enthralls : 
A double dungeon wall and wave 
Have made, and like a living grave 
Below the surface of the lake IT 

The dark vault lies wherein we lay. 
We heard it ripple night and day ; 

Sounding o'er our heads it knocked ; 
And I have felt the winter's spray 
Wash through the bars when winds were high I2 ° 

And wanton in the happy sky ; 



LORD BYRON. 267 

And then the very rock hath rocked, 

And I have felt it shake unshocked, 

Because I could have smiled to see 

The death that would have set me free. I2 5 

VII. 

I said my nearer brother pined, 

I said his mighty heart declined ; 

He loathed and put away his food ; 

It was not that 'twas coarse and rude, 

For we were used to hunter's fare, I 3° 

And for the like had little care : 

The milk drawn from the mountain goat 

Was changed for water from the moat, 

Our bread was such as captives' tears 

Have moistened many a thousand years, x 35 

Since man first pent his fellow-men 

Like brutes within an iron den ; 

But what were these to us or him ? 

These wasted not his heart or limb ; 

My brother's soul was of that mould *4° 

Which in a palace had grown cold, 

Had his free breathing been denied 

The range of the steep mountain's side ; 

But why delay the truth ? — he died. 

I saw, and could not hold his head, r 45 

Nor reach his dying hand — nor dead, 

Though hard I strove, but strove in vain, 

To rend and gnash my bonds in twain. 

He died — and they unlocked his chain, 

And scooped for him a shallow grave *5° 

Even from the cold earth of our cave. 

I begged them, as a boon, to lay 

His corse in dust, whereon the day 



268 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Might shine : it was a foolish thought, 

But then within my brain it wrought, 155 

That even in death his freeborn breast 

In such a dungeon could not rest. 

I might have spared my idle prayer : 

They coldly laughed — and laid him there : 

The flat and turfless earth above 160 

The being we so much did love ; 

His empty chain above it leant, 

Such murder's fitting monument ! 

VIII. 

But he, the favorite and the flower, 

Most cherished since his natal hour, l6 5 

His mother's image in fair face, 

The infant love of all his race, 

His martyred father's dearest thought, 

My latest care, for whom I sought 

To hoard my life, that his might be *7o 

Less wretched now, and one day free ; 

He, too, who yet had held untired 

A spirit natural or inspired — 

He, too, was struck, and day by day 

Was withered on the stalk away. *75 

O God ! it is a fearful thing 

To see the human soul take wing 

In any shape, in any mood : 

I've seen it rushing forth in blood, 

I've seen it on the breaking ocean l8 ° 

Strive with a swoln convulsive motion, 

I've seen the sick and ghastly bed 

Of sin delirious with its dread ; 

But these were horrors — this was woe 

Unmixed with such, but sure and slow. l8 5 



LORD BYRON. 269 

He faded, and so calm and meek, 

So softly worn, so sweetly weak, 

So tearless, yet so tender, kind, 

And grieved for those he left behind ; 

With all the while a cheek whose bloom l 9° 

Was as a mockery of the tomb, 

Whose tints as gently sunk away 

As a departing rainbow's ray ; 

An eye of most transparent light, 

That almost made the dungeon bright ; »95 

And not a word of murmur, — not 

A groan o'er his untimely lot, — 

A little talk of better days, 

A little hope my own to raise, 

For I was sunk in silence, — lost 20 ° 

In this last loss, of all the most ; 

And then the sighs he would suppress 

Of fainting nature's feebleness, 

More slowly drawn, grew less and less : 

I listened, but I could not hear ; 2 °5 

I called, for I was wild with fear ; 

I knew 'twas hopeless, but my dread 

Would not be thus admonished. 

I called, and thought I heard a sound : 

I burst my chain with one strong bound, 210 

And rushed to him ; I found him not ; 

I only stirred in this black spot, 

I only lived — / only drew 

The accursed breath of dungeon-dew ; 

The last — the sole — the dearest link 2I 5 

Between me and the eternal brink, 

Which bound me to my failing race, 

Was broken in this fatal place. 

One on the earth, and one beneath, — 



270 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

My brothers, — both had ceased to breathe. 

I took that hand which lay so still, 

Alas ! my own was full as chill ; 

I had not strength to stir, or strive, 

But felt that I was still alive, — 

A frantic feeling when we know 

That what we love shall ne'er be so. 

I know not why 

I could not die, 
I had no earthly hope — but faith, 
And that forbade a selfish death. 



IX. 

What next befell me then and there, 

I know not well — I never knew. 
First came the loss of light and air, 

And then of darkness too : 
I had no thought, no feeling — none — 2 35 

Among the stones I stood a stone, 
And was, scarce conscious what I wist, 
As shrubless crags within the mist ; 
For all was blank, and bleak, and gray ; 
It was not night — it was not day — 2 4° 

It was not even the dungeon-light, 
So hateful to my heavy sight, 
But vacancy absorbing space, 
And fixedness — without a place ; 
There were no stars, no earth, no time, 2 45 

No check, no change, no good, no crime ; 
But silence, and a stirless breath 
Which neither was of life nor death, — 
A sea of stagnant idleness, 
Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless ! 2 5° 



LORD BYRON. 27 1 



A light broke in upon my brain, — 

It was the carol of a bird ; 
It ceased, and then it came again, 

The sweetest song ear ever heard ; 
And mine was thankful till my eyes 2 55 

Ran over with the glad surprise, 
And they that moment could not see 
I was the mate of misery ; 
But then by dull degrees came back 
My senses to their wonted track ; 26 ° 

I saw the dungeon walls and floor 
Close slowly round me as before, 
I saw the glimmer of the sun 
Creeping as it before had done, 

But through the crevice where it came 26 5 

That bird was perched, as fond and tame, 

And tamer than upon the tree ; 
A lovely bird with azure wings, 
And song that said a thousand things, 
And seemed to say them all for me ! 2 /° 

I never saw its like before, 
I ne'er shall see its likeness more : 
It seemed like me to want a mate, 
But was not half so desolate ; 

Andjt was come to love me when 2 75 

None lived to love me so again, 
And, cheering from my dungeon's brink, 
Had brought me back to feel and think. 
I know not if it late were free, 

Or broke its cage to perch on mine, 28 ° 

But knowing well captivity, 

Sweet bird, I could not wish for thine ! 



272 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Or if it were, in winged guise, 

A visitant from Paradise ; 

For — Heaven forgive that thought ! the while 28 5 

Which made me both to weep and smile — 

I sometimes deemed that it might be 

My brother's soul come down to me ; 

But then at last away it flew, 

And then 'twas mortal — well I knew, 2 9° 

For he would never thus have flown, 

And left me twice so doubly lone, — 

Lone as the corse within its shroud, 

Lone as a solitary cloud, , ; 

A single cloud on a sunny day, 2 95 

While all the rest of heaven is clear, 
A frown upon the atmosphere, 
That hath no business to appear 

When skies are blue and earth is gay. 



XI. 

A kind of change came in my fate, 3°° 

My keepers grew compassionate ; 

I know not what had made them so, 

They were inured to sights of woe, 

But so it was : my broken chain 

With links unfastened did remain, 3°5 

And it was liberty to stride 

Along my cell from side to side, 

And up and down, and then athwart, 

And tread it over every part ; 

And round the pillars one by one, 3 10 

Returning where my walk begun, 

Avoiding only, as I trod, 

My brothers' graves without a sod ; 



LORD BYRON. 273 

For if I thought with heedless tread 

My step profaned their lowly bed, 3'5 

My breath came gaspingly and thick, 

And my crushed heart fell blind and sick. 

xn. 

I made a footing in the wall, 

It was not therefrom to escape, 
For I had buried one and all 3 2 ° 

Who loved me in a human shape ; 
And the whole earth would henceforth be 
A wider prison unto me : 
No child, no sire, no kin had I, 

No partner in my misery ; 3 2 5 

I thought of this, and I was glad, 
For thought of them had made me mad ; 
But I was curious to ascend 
To my barred windows, and to bend 
Once more upon the mountains high 33° 

The quiet of a loving eye. 

XIII. 

I saw them — and they were the same, 
They were not changed like me in frame ; 
I saw their thousand years of snow 
On high — their wide long lake below, 335 

And the blue Rhone in fullest flow ; 
I heard the torrents leap and gush 
O'er channelled rock and broken bush ; 
I saw the white-walled distant town, 
And whiter sails go skimming down ; 34° 

And then there was a little isle, 
Which in my very face did smile, 
The only one in view, — 



274 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

A small green isle, it seemed no more, 

Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, 345 

But in it there were three tall trees, 

And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, 

And by it there were waters flowing, 

And on it there were young flowers growing 

Of gentle breath and hue. 35° 

The fish swam by the castle wall, 
And they seemed joyous each and all ; 
The eagle rode the rising blast, 
Methought he never flew so fast 

As then to me he seemed to fly ; 355 

And then new tears came in my eye, 
And I felt troubled, and would fain 
I had not left my recent chain ; 
And, when I did descend again, 

The darkness of my dim abode 3 6 ° 

Fell on me as a heavy load ; 
It was as is a new-dug grave 
Closing o'er one we sought to save, — 
And yet my glance, too much opprest, 
Had almost need of such a rest. 3 6 5 



xiv. 

It might be months, or years, or days, — 

I kept no count, I took no note, 
I had no hope my eyes to raise 

And clear them of their dreary mote : 
At last men came to set me free ; 37° 

I asked not why, and recked not where ; 
It was at length the same to me, 
Fettered or fetterless to be ; 

I learned to love despair. 



LORD BY RON. 275 

And thus when they appeared at last, 375 

And all my bonds aside were east, 

These heavy walls to me had grown 

A hermitage — and all my own ! 

And half I felt as they were come 

To tear me from a second home. 3 So 

With spiders I had friendship made, 

And watched them in their sullen trade, 

Had seen the mice by moonlight play, 

And why should I feel less than they? 

We were all inmates of one place, 3^5 

And I, the monarch of each race, 

Had power to kill ; yet, strange to tell ! 

In quiet we had learned to dwell ; 

My very chains and I grew friends, 

So much a long communion tends 39° 

To make us what we are : — even I 

Regained my freedom with a sigh. 



276 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER XX. 

WILLIAM COWPER (1731-1800). 

" His talent is but the picture of his character, and his poems but the echo of his 
life. Poor charming soul, perishing like a frail flower transplanted from a warm 
land to the snows ! the world's temperature was too rough for it ; and the moral law 
which should have supported it, tore it with its thorns." — Taine. 

William Cowper, whom his best biographer, Southey, 
speaks of as " the most popular poet of his generation, and 
the best of English letter-writers," was born at Berkham- 
stead, England, in 1 73 1. His mother, whom to the last 
he affectionately remembered, died when he was only six 
years old. His constitution was from his infancy remark- 
ably delicate, and his extremely sensitive nature was sub- 
ject to fits of melancholy. He received his education at 
Westminster School. Being designed for the law, he was 
placed under an eminent attorney, on leaving whom he 
entered the Inner Temple. At the age of thirty-one he 
was nominated clerk in the House of Lords, but an 
unconquerable timidity of character prevented his enter- 
ing upon the duties of the appointment. He was next 
appointed clerk of the journals ; but an occasion occurring 
which rendered it necessary for the clerk to appear before 
the bar of the House, had such an effect on his nerves 
that he resigned his place. A morbid melancholy seized 
him, and it was found necessary to place him under the 



WILLIAM COW PER. 



277 



private care of a physician. After a time he recovered his 
mental faculties. 

He settled at Huntington, where he entered into a close 
friendship with a clergyman of the name of Unwin, in 
whose family he became an inmate. Mr. Unwin died in 
1767, and Cowper and Mrs. Unwin settled at Olney. He 
had, as yet, written but little, but in 1782 he issued a vol- 
ume of poems, which, however, attracted but little public at- 
tention. But a second volume, 
in 1785, established his repu- 
tation as a poet. This volume 
contained his celebrated poem, 
" The Task," a blank-verse pro- 
duction, written at the sugges- 
tion of his friend and admirer, g 
Lady Austin. The same lady ^M 
was also the occasion of the 111 
popular ballad, "John Gilpin," % 
the story of which she related 
to amuse Cowper during one 
of his fits of melancholy. 
About the same time he translated the Iliad of Homer 
into blank verse. 

In 1794 the King granted Cowper a pension of three 
hundred pounds a year, but the royal bounty was too late 
to yield much profit or pleasure. Its recipient was in a 
state of utter dejection, — a kind of morbid insanity, from 
which he rarely emerged into the enjoyment of unclouded 
reason. He continued to write, in short lucid intervals, 
until his death in 1800. 

Cowper's personal appearance is thus described by Hay- 
ley, his friend and biographer : " He was of middle stature, 




■ ■,,«•■> 



WILLIAM COWPER. 



278 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

rather strong than delicate in the form of his limbs ; the 
color of his hair was a light brown, that of his eyes a 
bluish gray, and his complexion ruddy. In his dress he 
was neat, but not finical ; in his diet, temperate and not 
dainty. He had an air of pensive reserve in his deport- 
ment, and his extreme shyness sometimes produced in his 
manners a mixture of awkwardness and dignity ; but no 
being could be more truly graceful when he was in perfect 
health, and perfectly pleased with his society." 



ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE OUT 
OF NORFOLK. 

Oh that those lips had language ! Life has passed 
With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smiles I see, 
The same that oft in childhood solaced me : 
Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, 5 

" Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away ! " 
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes 
(Blest be the art that can immortalize, — 
The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim 
To quench it !) here shines on me still the same. 10 

Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 

welcome guest, though unexpected here ! 
Who bidd'st me honor with an artless song, 
Affectionate, a mother lost so long. 

1 will obey, not willingly alone, 1 S 
But gladly, as the precept were her own : 

And, while that face renews my filial grief, 
Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, 



WILLIAM COWPER. 279 

Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, 

A momentary dream that thou art she. 2 ° 

My mother ! when I learnt that thou wast dead, 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed? 
Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, 
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? 
Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss ; 2 5 

Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — 
Ah, that maternal smile ! It answers — Yes. 
I heard the bell tolled on thy burial-day, 
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, 
And, turning from my nursery window, drew 3° 

A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu. 
But was it such? — It was. — Where thou art gone, 
Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. 
May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, 
The parting sound shall pass my lips no more. 35 

Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, 
Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. 
What ardently I wished I long believed, 
And, disappointed still, was still deceived, 
By expectation every day beguiled, 4° 

Dupe of to-morrow, even from a child. 
Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, 
Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, 
I learnt at last submission to my lot ; 
But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. 45 

Where once we dwelt, our name is heard no more ; 
Children not thine have trod my nursery floor ; 
And where the gardener Robin, day by day, 
Drew me to school along the public way, 
Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapt 5° 

In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capt, 
'Tis now become a history little known, 
That once we called the pastoral house our own. 



280 FIRST STEPS I A 7 ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Short-lived possession ! but the record fair 

That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, . 55 

Still outlives many a storm that has effaced 

A thousand other themes less deeply traced. 

Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, 

That thou might'st know me safe and warmly laid ; 

Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, 6 ° 

The biscuit, or confectionery plum ; 

The fragrant wateis on my cheek bestowed 

By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed ; 

All this, and, more endearing still than all, 

Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall, 65 

Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and breaks 

That humor interposed too often makes ; 

All this still legible in memory's page, 

And still to be so to my latest age, 

Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay 7° 

Such honors to thee as my numbers may ; 

Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere, 

Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here. 

Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, 
When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, 75 

The violet, the pink, and jessamine, 
I pricked them into paper with a pin 
(And thou wast happier than myself the while, 
Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile), 
Could those few pleasant days again appear, 8o 

Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ? 
I would not trust my heart — the dear delight 
Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. — 
But no — what here we call our life is such 
So little to be loved, and thou so much, 8 5 

That I should ill requite thee to constrain 
Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. 



WILLIAM COW PER. 281 

Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast 
(The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed) 
Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, 9° 

Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, 
There sits quiescent on the floods that show 
Her beauteous form reflected clear below, 
While airs impregnated with incense play 
Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, — 95 

So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reached the shore 
' ; Where tempests never beat nor billows roar," 
And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide 
Of life long since has anchored by thy side. 
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, 10 °- 

Always from port withheld, always distressed — 
Me howling winds drive devious, tempest-tossed, 
Sails ript, seams opening wide, and compass lost, 
And day by day some current's thwarting force 
Sets me more distant from a prosperous course. 10 5 

But oh, the thought that thou art safe, and he ! 
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 
My boast is not that I deduce my birth 
From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; 
But higher far my proud pretensions rise, — "o 

The son of parents passed into the skies. 
And now, farewell — Time unrevoked has run 
His wonted course, yet what I wished is done. 
By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again ; n 5 

To have renewed the joys that once were mine, 
Without the sin of violating thine ; 
And, while the wings of Fancy still are free, 
And I can view this mimic show of thee, 
Time has but half succeeded in his theft — I2 ° 

Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left. 



282 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE (1564-1616). 

" I loved the man, and do honor his memory. He was indeed honest, and of an 
open and free nature." — Ben Jonson. 

" The name of Shakspeare is the greatest in our literature ; it is the greatest in all 
literature." — Hallam. 

" And he, the man whom Nature selfe had made 
To mocke herself and Truth to imitate." — Spenser. 

William Shakspeare, the greatest of all poets, was 
born on the 23d of April, 1564, in Stratford-on-Avon, a 
small town in Warwickshire, England. His father, John 
Shakspeare, was a respectable tradesman ; but his mother, 
Isabella Arden, was an heiress of ancient and even 
knightly descent. For many years John Shakspeare and 
his wife lived happily, and things prospered with them : 
and we learn that he was made alderman, and afterwards 
mayor, of his native town. Then he seems to have taken 
to farming, about which he knew little or nothing, and the 
consequence was, that in his later days he was so poor 
that his son William had to support him. The poet was 
born during the prosperous part of his father's life, but by 
the time he was fifteen there was poverty in the house- 
hold. The future dramatist received little or no instruc- 
tion from his parents, for neither of them could read or 
write ; but he was sent to the free grammar school, where 



WILLI A M SUA KSPEA RE. 



283 



he received the advantages of such elementary instruction 
as was offered by the schools of those days. 

According to the various legends connected with the 
early life of so great a man, Shakspeare seems to have 
been a wayward, and even profligate, young fellow. There 
are stories of his having stolen deer from Sir Thomas 
Lucy's park, and of his having been severely punished by 
that magistrate for so doing. In revenge, he wrote some 
doggerel verses, making sport 
of Sir Thomas, and posted 
them on the park gate. Such 
was the wrath of the indig- 
nant squire, that Shakspeare, 
to escape from more serious 
persecution, deemed it ex- ; 
pedient to leave Stratford. | 
But there was another reason -j§ 
for his going away. When % 
only eighteen years old he 
had foolishly married a farm- 
er's daughter called Anne 

Hathaway, a woman nearly eight years older than himself. 
The ill-matched pair seem to have been very unhappy, for, 
after leaving her, he came but seldom to see her, and when 
he died he left her only " his second best bed with the 
hangings." Susanna, the poet's favorite child, was born in 
1583, and in the following year twins, Judith and Hamnet. 
The only son, Hamnet, died at twelve years of age ; his 
two daughters survived their illustrious father. 

Shakspeare went to London to seek his fortune. Soon 
after, he was invited to join the company at the Globe 
Theatre. His duties were to prepare old plays for the 




WILLIAM SHAKsl'EAKE. 



284 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

stage, and to act occasionally when required. By and 
by he became one of the owners in this theatre, wrote 
splendid plays of his own, and became part proprietor of 
a new theatre, the Blackfriars, on the north side of the 
Thames. Such was his industry and success in the double 
capacity of actor and writer of plays, that in a few years 
he reaped the reward of his prudence, and became a wealthy 
man. He was able to buy an estate called New Place, 
near his native town, where he retired in 161 1 to spend 
the remainder of his days. He died, after a short illness, 
on the 23d of April, the anniversary of his birthday, in 
1616, having exactly completed his fifty-second year. He 
was buried in the parish church of Stratford. Shakspeare's 
private character seems to have been that of an "amiable, 
gentle, and generous man, beloved by everybody except 
the very few who were jealous of his greatness." 

It would be in vain to try to enumerate all the charac- 
teristics of Shakspeare's poetry, or to tell in how many 
respects he excels all other poets. He loved Nature, and 
his poetry contains the most exquisite pictures ; he studied 
the looks, the words, the actions, of the men and women he 
met, and his plays reflect them as in a mirror. The fame 
of Shakspeare rests almost solely upon his plays, usually 
reckoned as thirty-seven in number. These plays fall 
naturally into three classes, — tragedies, historical dramas, 
and comedies. The most celebrated tragedies are Mac- 
beth, King Lear, Hamlet, Othello, and Romeo and Juliet. 
The most popular historical dramas are Henry V., Rich- 
ard II., Richard III., Henry VIII, Julius Caesar, and An- 
tony and Cleopatra ; while the best-known comedies are 
The Merchant of Venice, The Merry Wives of Windsor, 
Midsummer Night's Dream, and As You Like It. The 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 285 

principal works of Shakspeare, besides his plays, are Venus 
and Adonis, Rape of Lucrece, and one hundred and fifty- 
four sonnets. 

The only account of Shakspeare's personal appearance 
that we have is contained in Aubrey's two lines : ".He was 
a handsome, well-shaped man, very good company, and of 
a very ready and pleasant and smooth wit." 



ON THE STUDY OF SHAKSPEARE. 



It is impossible to quote, in this book, enough of Shak- 
speare's text to be of any practical use ; therefore we quote 
nothing. The ordinary memory quotations and famous 
passages are easily found in any advanced reading-book 
or text-book of standard selections. School editions of 
the plays, admirably annotated, and sold for a nominal 
sum, are easily found. It is better for the young student 
to become familiar with one good play, like the Mer- 
chant of Venice, than to read passages here and there 
from many plays. 

Much depends upon the time assigned to the study of 
Shakspeare. The success or failure of the Shakspeare 
course may depend upon the plays selected, or even the 
first play. We have found the Merchant of Venice the 
best to begin with, followed by Julius Caesar, Richard III., 
and Macbeth. Richard Grant White advises the student 
to begin with the Tempest or As You Like It, then 
follow with Merchant of Venice and Much Ado About 
Nothing. 

Whatever time may be given to Shakspeare, the student 
should read and study certain well-known selections from 



286 



FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



the great dramatist. After a whole play has been read, 
or even in the midst of it, renewed interest may be excited 
by reading some famous passage. For illustration we 
have chosen a few of the more famous and familiar pas- 
sages, to which many others can be added : — 





Passage. 


Play. 


Act. 


Sc. 


I. 


Queen Katherine's defence, 


Henry VIIL 


II. 


4 


2. 


Fall of Wolsey, 


Henry VIIL 


III. 


2 


3- 


Famous reference to Queen Elizabeth, 


Henry VIIL < 


V. 


4 


4- 


Moonlight scene, 


Romeo and Juliet. 


II. 


2 


5- 


Miranda and Ferdinand, 


Tempest. 


III. 


1 


6. 


Prince Arthur and Hubert, 


King John. 


IV. 


1 


7- 


Falstaff and Prince Hal, 


Henry IV. 


II. 


4 


8. 


King Henry and his son, 


Henry IV. 


III. 


2 


9- 


The King's Censure, 


Henry IV. (2) 


IV. 


4 


10. 


Death of King John, 


King Jo Jin. 


V. 


6,7 


ii. 


Othello and Iago, 


Othello. 


III. 


3 


12. 


Hermione's appeal, 


Winter's Tale. 


III. 


2 


!3- 


Trial of Othello, 


Othello. 


I. 


3 


14. 


Clarence's dream, 


Richard III. 


I. 


4 


l 5- 


Advice of Polonius, 


Hamlet. 


I. 


3 


16. 


Antony's oration, 


Julias Ccesar. 


III. 


2 


17- 


Grief of Constance, 


King John. 


III. 


4 


18. 


King Richard's soliloquy, 


Richard II. 


V. 


5 


19. 


Quarrel scene, 


Julius Ccesar. 


IV. 


3 


20. 


Sleep-walking scene, 


Macbeth. 


V. 


1 



Note. — Details concerning the study of Shakspeare may be found in " Study of 
the English Classics," chap. xvi. p. 199. The teacher may find valuable help in two 
articles in Hudson's " English in Schools," entitled " Shakspeare as a Textbook," 
and " How to use Shakspeare in School." 

Consult also an article on "Class-Room Study of Shakspeare," in Thorn's 
" Shakspeare's Examinations." 



JOHN MILTON. 287 



CHAPTER XXII. 

JOHN MILTON (1608-1674). 

"The first place among our English poets is due to Milton." — Addison. 

" Milton, the poet, the statesman, the philosopher, the glory of English literature, 
the champion and the martyr of English liberty." — Macaulay. 

John Milton, the illustrious poet, was born in London 
in 1608. His father was a scrivener or writer, and money- 
lender, well-to-do in the world, and both anxious and ready 
to give his son a good education. From his earliest years 
Milton gave great promise of becoming a profound scholar 
and a splendid poet. He was educated at St. Paul's School, 
and at the age of sixteen entered Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge. Leaving Cambridge in 1632, he went to reside at 
his father's villa at Horton. He studied at this place for 
five years with severe application, devoting himself par- 
ticularly to the Greek and Roman classics. In the inter- 
vals of his studies he produced " L' Allegro," " II Pense- 
roso," and "Comus." In 1637 he made a tour through 
France and Italy, and in the latter country cultivated the 
personal friendship of the leading Italian writers of the 
time. He also had an interview with Galileo. On his 
return to England he founded a private boarding-school. 
It is said that he never received fees from his pupils, but 
undertook the work of education as a high moral duty, the 
discharge of which he felt incumbent upon him. 



288 



FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



While ostensibly a private gentleman keeping a select 
school, he was virtually one of the leading spirits in the 
controversial age in which he lived ; he was its most able 
and most active political pamphleteer. In those times, 
before there were newspapers to express or to lead public 
opinion, the political pamphlet wielded an influence which 
it is difficult for us now to realize. The full weight of 
Milton's literary influence was thrown into the scales in 

favor of the Puritan party. 
His polemical disquisition was 
resistless, and his denuncia- 
tion terrible. His reputation 
as a pamphleteer — as a rec- 
ognized political power in 
the realm — was known over 
\, Europe. In graceful recog- 
t nition of his services, he was 
appointed Latin Secretary to 
Cromwell in 1649. In this 
capacity he was commissioned 
by the Council to write a 
" Defence of the People of England," as the rejoinder to 
the " Defence of Charles the First," by the celebrated 
philologist, Salmasius of Leyden. In the composition of 
this great work, which he wrote in Latin, his hitherto 
weak eyesight gave way, and he became utterly blind. 
He died in 1674. 

The Restoration was, of course, an ill-omened event to 
Milton. His pen had dealt sternly with the beheaded 
king, and he dared not to look for much mercy from his 
son. He hid himself in the house of a friend, and his 
political works were publicly burnt by the common hang- 




JOHN MILTON. 



JOHN MILTON. 289 

man. He, however, escaped personal molestation. In 
poverty, blindness, and severe domestic affliction, he hid 
himself in an obscure part of London ; and there, in the 
winter of life, with hopes blasted and energies unrequited, 
he in his blindness dictated to his daughters his great epic, 
"Paradise Lost," which was published in 1667. 

A publisher could hardly be found at all sufficiently 
speculative to undertake the risk of producing the work ; 
and the sum of eighteen pounds was all that was ever 
received by the author and his family as their share of 
the profits of "Paradise Lost." 

This great epic consists of twelve books, and is written 
in sonorous and stately blank verse. Its subject is an 
embellished and much-extended version of the Mosaic 
account of the fall of man, in which the author involves 
the expulsion from heaven of Satan and the rebel angels. 
It contains passages of overpowering eloquence, grandeur 
of conception, and transcendent sublimity of poetic range. 
The work is still largely read and copiously quoted. In 
our literature there is no parallel work ; no work, indeed, 
which we are justified in mentioning either in comparison 
or contrast with it. 

The principal works of Milton to which we have not 
already referred are his Paradise Regained, Lycidas, Sam- 
son Agonistes, Ode to the Nativity, and Sonnets. His 
prose works, among which we may name his Areopagitica, 
Eikonoclastes, and History of England, were exceedingly 
numerous, and are sufficient of themselves to support no 
mean literary reputation. 

Milton was three times married ; and, upon the whole, 
his domestic life was an unhappy one. In his youth he 
was decidedly handsome, both in face and figure. His 



290 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

manners were simple and unaffected, and his morality 
austere and rigid. The following portraiture of the great 
poet is given by Fenton : " The color of his hair was a 
light brown, the symmetry of his features exact, enlivened 
with an agreeable air. His stature did not exceed the 
middle size, neither too lean nor corpulent. In his diet 
he was abstemious, not delicate in the choice of his dishes, 
and strong liquors of all kinds were his aversion. His 
deportment was erect, open, affable ; his conversation easy, 
cheerful, instructive ; his wit on all occasions at command, 
facetious, grave, or satirical, as the subject required." 



LYCIDAS. 



In this Monody the Author bewails a learned friend, unfortunately drowned 
in his passage from Chester on the Irish seas, 1637. And by occasion fore- 
tells the rum of our corrupted clergy, then in their height. 

Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more, 
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never-sere, 
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, 
And with forced fingers rude 

Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 

Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, 
Compels me to disturb your season due : 
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, 
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. 
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew I0 

Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 
He must not float upon his watery bier 
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, 
Without the meed of some melodious tear. 

Begin, then, sisters of the sacred well, T 5 



JOHN MILTON. 29 1 

That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring ; 

Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string : 

Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse, 

So may some gentle Muse 

With lucky words favor my destined urn ; 20 

And as he passes turn, 

And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. 

For we were nurst upon the self-same hill, 

Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill. 

Together both, ere the high lawns appeared 2 5 

Under the opening eyelids of the morn, 

We drove afield ; and both together heard 

What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, 

Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, 

Oft till the star that rose at evening, bright, 3° 

Towards heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel. 

Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, 

Tempered to the oaten flute ; 

Rough satyrs danced, and fauns with cloven heel 

From the glad sound would not be absent long, 35 

And old Damcetas loved to hear our song. 

But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, — 
Now thou art gone, and never must return ! 
Thee shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves, 
With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, 4° 

And all their echoes mourn. 
The willows, and the hazel copses green, 
Shall now no more be seen, 
Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. 
As killing as the canker to the rose, 45 

Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, 
Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, 
When first the white-thorn blows, — 
Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. 



292 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Where were ye, nymphs, when the remorseless deep 5° 

Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas ? 
For neither were ye playing on the steep, 
Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, 
Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, 

Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream. 55 

Ay me, I fondly dream ! 

Had ye been there ... for what could that have done ? 
What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, — 
The Muse herself, for her enchanting son 
Whom universal Nature did lament, 60 

When by the rout that made the hideous roar 
His gory visage down the stream was sent, 
Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore ? 
Alas ! what boots it with incessant care 

To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, . 6 5 

And strictly meditate the thankless Muse ? 
Were it not better done as others use, 
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, 
Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair? 

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 7° 

(That last infirmity of noble mind), 
To scorn delights, and live laborious days ; 
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, 
And think to burst out into sudden blaze, 
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, 75 

And slits the thin-spun life. " But not the praise," 
Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears ; 
" Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, 
Nor in the glistering foil 

Set off to the world, nor in broad rumor lies ; 8o 

But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes, 
And perfet witness of all-judging Jove. 
As he pronounces lastly on each deed, 
Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed." 



JOHN MILTON. 293 

O fountain Arethuse, and thou honored flood, 8 5 

Smooth- sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds, 
That strain I heard was of a higher mood ; 
But now my oat proceeds, 
And listens to the herald of the sea, 

That came in Neptune's plea ; 9° 

He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, 
What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain? 
And questioned every gust of rugged wings 
That blows from off each beaked promontory ; 
They knew not of his story, 95 

And sage Hippotades their answer brings, 
That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed, 
The air was calm, and on the level brine 
Sleek Panope with all her sisters played. 
It was that fatal and perfidious bark, I0 ° 

Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, 
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 

Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, 
His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, 
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge I0 5 

Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. 
"Ah ! who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?" 
Last came, and last did go, 
The pilot of the Galilean lake ; 

Two massy keys he bore, of metals twain IJO 

(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain), 
He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake : — 
" How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, 
Anow of such as for their bellies' sake 
Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold ! TI 5 

Of other care they little reckoning make 
Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, 
And shove away the worthy bidden guest. 



294 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

Blind mouths, that scarce themselves know how to hold 

A sheephook, or have learned aught else the least . I2 ° 

That to the faithful herdsman's art belongs ! 

What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; 

And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs 

Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ; 

The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, I2 5 

But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, 

Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread ; 

Besides what the grim wolf, with privy paw, 

Daily devours apace, and nothing sed ; 

But that two-handed engine at the door I 3° 

Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more." 

Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past 
That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse, 
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast 
Their bells, and flowrets of a thousand hues. '35 

Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use 
Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, 
On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, 
Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, 
That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, x 4° 

And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, 
The white pink, and the pansy freakt with jet, 
The glowing violet, '45 

The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine ; 
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, 
And every flower that sad embroidery wears ; 
Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed, 

And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, *5° 

To strew the laureat hearse where Lycid lies ; 
For, so to interpose a little ease, 



JOHN MILTON. 295 

Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. 

Ay me ! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas 

Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled, "55 

Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, 

Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide 

Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world ; 

Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, 

Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, l6 ° 

Where the great vision of the guarded mount 

Looks toward Namancos, and Bayona's hold ; 

Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth, 

And, O ye dolphins ! waft the hapless youth. 

Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more ; l6 5 

For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, 
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor : 
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed ; 
And yet, anon, repairs his drooping head, 
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore *7° 

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky : 
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, 
Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves ; 
Where, other groves and other streams along, 
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, '75 

And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, 
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. 
There entertain him all the saints above, 
In solemn troops and sweet societies, 

That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 

And wipe the tears forever from his eyes. 
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more ; 
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore, 
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good 
To all that wander in that perilous flood. l8 5 

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, 



296 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

While the still morn went out with sandals gray ; 

He touched the tender stops of various quills, . 

With eager thought warbling his Doric lay ; 

And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, J 9° 

And now was dropt into the western bay ; 

At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue : 

To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. 



MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS. 297 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS IN ENGLISH LITERATURE. 
I. MISCELLANEOUS TOPICS. 

The following topics are intended to be used for exam- 
ination and review questions; also as subjects for essays, 
discussions, and familiar talks. 1 

1. Mention and describe three English literary productions previous to 
the time of Chaucer. 

2. When did Chaucer live ? Name his greatest work, and give an analysis 
of its plan. 

3. Sketch briefly the plan of the Canterbury Tales. What eminent 
literary men were living in England at the time of Chaucer ? 

4. Give a brief outline of the rise and progress of the English drama 
previous to Shakspeare. 

5. Tell the chief facts in the life of Shakspeare. Name ten of his 
dramas. 

6. Give a brief account of the development of the drama, from its most 
primitive form to the time of Shakspeare. 

7. Name three great writers of the age of Queen Elizabeth ; also one 
of the leading works of each. 

8. Of whom was it said, " The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind," 
and who said it ? 

9. Mention three leading works of the author of the above quotation. 

10. Name the novelists and historians of Dr. Johnson's time, with their 
works. 

1 For a most complete series of questions on English literature, the teacher is 
referred to Louise Maertz's New Method for the Study of English Literature (with 
Key), price Si. 00 each. 



298 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

n. Give an account of Goldsmith and his works, particularly The Deserted 
Village. 

12. Peculiarities of Cowper as a man and a writer. 

13. Name the principal writers contemporary with Scott, and their works. 

14. Name the author of each of the following works, and mention another 
work by each author : Areopagitica, Annus Mirabilis, The Tale of a Tub, 
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, Lay of the Last Minstrel, Rasselas, 
Essays of Elia, Sketch-Book, Marble Faun, American Flag, Evangeline, 
Biglow Papers, The Task, The Rivals, Tarn O'Shanter, Marmion, The 
Giaour. 

15. Quote from each of the following works, naming the authors : Deserted 
Village, Essay on Man, Bard, Lady of the Lake. 

16. When, and by whom, were the following books written? Robinson 
Crusoe, Gulliver's Travels, Pickwick Papers, Faery Queen, In Memoriam. 

17. Quote a passage from each of the following works, name the author, 
point out some of his characteristics as a writer, and tell how this work ranks 
among the author's other writings: Lady of the Lake, Locksley Hall, We 
are Seven, Elegy in a Country Churchyard. 

18. Mention three additional works by the author of Marmion, and two 
by the author of The Giaour. 

19. Who were the great literary impostors of the latter half of the 
eighteenth century ? 

20. Give an account of the life of the greatest Scotch poet, and mention 
two of his poems. 

21. Who were the so-called "Lake School" poets? Mention an impor- 
tant poem by each. 

22. Mention three leading English historians and two American historians 
of the nineteenth century ; also the leading work of each. 

23. Mention five*modern English novelists, also one novel written by each. 

24. It is said that Goldsmith might with propriety be called a novelist, 
a poet, and an historian. Mention a work written by him in each of these 
departments. 

25. Mention the five first great English novelists; name one work of 
each. 

26. Name the three historical writers of the eighteenth century, the lead- 
ing work of each, and the defects of these historians. 

27. Give a brief account of Coleridge's life. Quote from his works. 

28. State fully the incidents and peculiarities of style of The Ancient 
Mariner. 

29. Give your o%vn impressions of the poetry of Scott, as compared with 
that of other poets of about the same period. 



MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS. 299 

30. Write a brief account of the life and writings of Robert Burns. 
Name five of his best-known works, and point out their peculiar merits. 
Name six great writers contemporary with him. 

31. Compare and contrast the genius and the style of Macaulay and 
Carlyle. Name three great works written by each. 

32. Which is the greater novelist, — Charlotte Bronte, or George Eliot? 
Substantiate the view you hold by reference to the ablest novels of each. 

33. What place among English writers would you assign to the following 
names ? Burke, Cowper, Bunyan, Johnson, Jonson, De Quincey, Shelley, 
Collins, Addison. Give your reasons for assigning them the places you do. 

34. Name two works written by each of the following authors, and give 
your opinion of the literary merit of each work: Defoe. Swift, Thomson, 
Goldsmith. 

35. Who were the two greatest English novelists of the present century? 
Characterize the genius of each. In what respect do they differ from each 
other ? Name the five best works of each. 

36. Who were the two greatest historians of the last century? Name the 
best works of each, and give your opinion of their literary merit. 

37. In what has Shakspeare excelled all other writers ? 

38. From what source did Shakspeare obtain the plot of the play of 
Macbeth ? Give a short quotation from the play. What was Lady Macbeth's 
character ? 

39. Write a sketch of Shakspeare's life, and give the different classifica- 
tions of his works, naming examples of each class. 

40. Give the names and works of five writers who lived between the time 
of Chaucer and that of Spenser. 

41. Name and classify the writers of the Elizabethan age. 

42. What was the character of the English ballad? 

43. Describe the "Miracle Plays" and the "Moralites." 

44. Name the celebrated contemporaries of Shakspeare. 

45. When, and by whom, was the first translation of the Scriptures into 
English made ? 

46. Name Spenser's great allegorical poem. Describe the Spenserian 
stanza. Name two other writers of allegory. 

47. What is a drama? Name the most celebrated writers of dramatic 
poetry. 

48. Name the author of each of the following: Every Man in His Humor, 
Novum Organum, The Purple Island, Gulliver's Travels, and Rape of the 
Lock. How do the above named productions differ in style ? 

49. Give a brief account of the literary labors of Joseph Addison, Richard 
Steele, and Samuel Johnson. Compare Addison's style with that of Johnson. 



300 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

50. Name the principal productions of the following writers : Hume, 
Gibbon, Robertson, Macaulay, Irving, Prescott, Bancroft, and Motley. 

51. Describe the events that, in the early years of the sixteenth century, 
exerted chiefly a literary influence in England, and mention the names of 
the most distinguished authors of the times referred to. 

52. In what respects are the works of Lord Surrey interesting in the 
history of English literature ? 

53. Give some account of the rise and progress of the English drama. 

54. What conditions were favorable to the cultivation of literature in the 
reign of Elizabeth ? 

55. Mention the principal literary works that belong to the reign of James 
I. and Charles I., and to the period of the Commonwealth and Protecto- 
rate. 

56. Give the author of each of the following works, the century in which 
it was written, and the department of literature in which it should be classed : 
Essay on Criticism, Ancient Mariner, Cotter's Saturday Night, Vicar of 
Wakefield, Rasselas, Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Cato, Gulliver's 
Travels, Faery Queen, and Oliver Twist. 

57. The same for the following works : The Bard, Castle of Indolence, 
Lays of Ancient Rome, The Newcomes, Utopia, Childe Harold, Absalom 
and Achitophel, Hudibras, Worthies of England, and Novum Organum. 

58. Twelve great authors from Chaucer to Tennyson, with their contem- 
poraries, with quotations. 

59. Quotations from Hamlet, Macbeth, Merchant of Venice, Julius 
Caesar, and Henry VIII. 

60. What was the character of the literature of the period of the 
Restoration ? 

61. Who were the chief writers of Queen Anne's reign? 

62. Name the historical writers of the eighteenth century. 

63. Mention the principal works in Anglo-Saxon poetry and prose. 

64. What are the qualities that are chiefly characteristic of Anglo-Saxon 
literature, and the causes thereof ? 

65. Mention the principal historical conditions that in the fifteenth century 
were, in England, unfavorable to the cultivation of learning. 

66. What essayists can you name? Who wrote Childe Harold, The 
Pleasures of Hope, The Curse of Kehama, Pendennis, Aurora Leigh? 

67. What were the distinguishing characteristics of the Elizabethan 
period of English literature? Name ten authors of this period, with one 
work of each. 

68. Describe the stanza in which the Cotter's Saturday Night is written. 
What remarkable poems have been written in this stanza ? 



MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS. 30 1 

69. Mention the points of resemblance between the Poem of Caedmon 
and the Paradise Lost. 

70. Where will you find literary reference to Rill from the Town Pump, 
Tiny Tim, Rebecca, Gulliver, Micawber, Man Friday, Moll Flanders, Female 
Martyr, Rip Van Winkle, Loss of the Royal George, Thanatopsis, Famous 
Attack on Christianity, Hymn on the Nativity, Stella and Vanessa, Walter 
Raleigh, Little Nell, Jeanie Deans, Boz, Geoffrey Crayon, George Eliot, 
Fanny Fern, Heathen Chinee, Eva, Wizard of the North, Sam Weller, 
Florence Percy, Alice and Phcebe Cary, Old Manse, James T. Fields, Ik 
Marvel, Mrs. Partington, Will Carleton, Bret Harte, Raven, Biglow Papers, 
Bob Acres, Angelic Doctor, Mrs. Bardell, Bridge of Sighs, Brobdingnag, 
Castle of Indolence, Chevy Chase, Ccelebs, Elia, Elaine ; Bards of Avon, 
Ayrshire,* Hope, Memory, Olney, Rydal Mount, Twickenham, " Barkis is 
willin'," Sir John Barleycorn, Battle of the Kegs, 'Currer Bell,' Benedick, 
English Opium-Eater, English Rabelais, Uncle Toby, Topsy, Shakspeare 
of Divines, Ettrick Shepherd, Fagin, John Gilpin, Rosamond, Auld Robin 
Gray, Great Magician, Grub Street, Nut-brown Maid, Mab, Excalibur, Pamela, 
Dr. Primrose, Quaker Poet, Robin Hood, Prisoner of Chillon, Captain 
Bobadil, Bower of Bliss, Bozzy, Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., Sir Giles Overreach, 
Red-Cross Knight ? 

71. Mention ten prominent American authors, — three poets, five writers 
of fiction, and two historians, — and name one work by each of the authors 
you have mentioned. 

72. Contrast Longfellow's poetry with that of Whittier. Compare 
Prescott's writings with those of Irving. 

73. Who wrote the following ? The Culprit Fay, Hyperion, A dsum, Poems 
of Two Friends, The Blind Preacher, The Winged Worshippers, Uncle 
Tom's Cabin, Walden, Battle Hymn of the Republic, Dirge for Two 
Veterans. 

74. Give a brief account of O. W. Holmes ; name his principal works, 
and state the prevailing characteristics of his writings. 

75. Name five of the best-known female writers of the present day. 

j6. In what work do we find each of the following characters ? Leather- 
stocking, Wouter Van Twiller, Baltus Von Slingerland, Bernard Langdon, 
Peggotty, Pied Piper of Hamelin. 

77. Tell what you can about the life of Longfellow. Name his most 
noted works. 

78. Who wrote the following ? The Bridge of Sighs, The Deserted 
Village, Thanatopsis, Snow-Bound, The Alhambra, Locksley Hall, The 
House of Seven Gables, Paul Revere's Ride, Evangeline, Rab and his 
Friends, Romola. 



302 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

79. Write a brief essay on the poetry of Whittier. 

80. What class of works did Prescott write? How does his style com- 
pare with that of other authors of the same class ? 

81. In what works do we find the following characters: Elsie Venner, 
Dr. Primrose, Priscilla, Mabel Martin, Father Felician ? Name the authors. 

82. Into what three periods is the history of American literature divided? 
Tell what form of literary composition flourished most in each of these 
periods, and give the name of one great writer belonging to each period. 

83. Mention some of the principal causes that tend to retard the develop- 
ment of a national literature in the United States. 

84. Name in the order of their merit the five ablest American writers of 
fiction. 

II. -AIDS TO MEMORY. 

It will be found an excellent plan, at the beginning of 
a course of study, to select a certain number of great 
authors to stand as representatives of our literature at 
certain periods of its history, and to group around each 
one of them other less famous but still prominent names. 
Let the date of the birth or death of these representa- 
tive authors selected be carefully committed to memory. 
Twelve or fifteen dates are enough for practical purposes. 
Having thus associated these dates with the authors, let 
them serve as "landmarks" to guide the student in his 
subsequent studies, — as "pegs" on which to hang literary 
facts, minor authors, historical events, etc. It is surpris- 
ing how readily important facts, dates, and events may 
thus be retained in memory by associating them with a 
few well-committed dates as a basis. 1 

The fact that Goldsmith died in 1774 might be soon 
forgotten ; but associate it with the battle of Lexington, 
and we retain it easily in the memory. What famous 

1 " It is well to know also that nothing so helps the memory as association of 
ideas. It is easier to remember six facts that are connected with each other than 
a single one that seems to be connected with nothing else." — W. W. Skeat. 



MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS. 303 

authors might have witnessed the great fire and plague in 
London, in 1665 and 1666? Remember that Shakspeare 
died (16 1 6) four years before the Pilgrims landed at Plym- 
outh, and that Milton was born (1608) one year after 
Jamestown was settled. 

The first Waverley novel was published (18 14) a few 
months before the battle of Waterloo, and " Paradise 
Lost " was finished the same year of the Great London 
Fire (1665). Bunyan was born the same year that Harvey 
discovered the circulation of the blood (1628). Napoleon 
crossed the Alps, and Cowper died, the same year (1800). 
Dryden was born one year after Boston was founded 
(163 1). Gen. Wolfe's memorable victory at Quebec took 
place the same year that Burns was born (1759). 

The ingenuity of the pupil will readily supply any num- 
ber of historical events with which the requisite literary 
facts may be associated. 

To illustrate, we give the following dates : — 

Chaucer, 1400; Spenser, 1600; Shakspeare, 1616; Milton, 1674; 
Dryden, 1700; Addison, 17 19; Pope, 1744; Goldsmith, 1774; Cowper, 
1800; Byron, 1824; Irving, 1859; Longfellow, 1882. 

Illustration. 

Goldsmith, 1728-74. — Oliver Goldsmith died in middle life, one year 
before the battle of Lexington. He was four years old when Washington 
was born. He was two years older than Burke, and three years older than 
Cowper, while Dr. Johnson was nineteen years older, and yet lived ten years 
after his genial friend died. Burns was a lad of fifteen when Goldsmith died. 
A young girl named Horneck was a great favorite with her Irish would-be 
lover. This lady outlived Goldsmith many years; and Irving, who died in 
1859, while in England had a conversation with this lady, then quite aged, 
about the famous friends of her youth. Goldsmith associated with many cele- 
brated men; among them were Dr. Johnson, Reynolds, Garrick, and Burke. 
He was contemporary with Collins, Gibbon, Hume, Sterne, and Gray. 



304 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



III. — THE "MONUMENT" OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

In order to obtain a comprehensive grouping of the 
standard authors, and to fix in the memory the principal 
facts in history, and their relation to the great authors of 
any particular age, we may make use of a diagram which 
may be called a " monument" of English literature. It 
serves quite well to impress upon the mind the names, 
dates, principal events, etc. 

.The following diagram is to be copied into the note- 
book, the names and dates thoroughly committed to mem- 
ory, and in due time should be made the subject of a 
blackboard exercise. After the whole has been mastered, 
the pupil should be instructed to fill in, orally, literary, 
biographical, and historical facts. Let the chosen authors 
and dates on the monument be used like pegs in the hall- 
rack, on which to hang a variety of valuable facts without 
any risk of confusion. 

Illustration. 

Addison, 1672-1719. — Joseph Addison, one of England's great classical 
prose writers, was born in 1672, the same year with Peter the Great, and six 
years after the great London fire. Addison was three years older than Sir 
Richard Steele, his life-long and intimate friend. At this time Swift was 
five years old, while Addison was a small boy of only two years, when Milton 
died. The first number of "The Spectator " was issued in 1711, the same 
year that the ruins of Herculaneum were discovered. Among the celebrated 
persons whom Addison might have seen were Swift, Defoe, Richardson, 
William Penn, Fielding, Sir Isaac Newton, Murillo, Handel, Prior, Gay, 
Sterne, Pope, Lady Montagu, Peter the Great, Thomson, Sir William Temple, 
Charles XII., Bishop Berkeley, Dryden, and Young. 

Addison might have read, as news of his day, of the passage of Habeas 
Corpus Act (1679), execution of Lord Stafford (1680), Revocation of the 
Edict of Nantes by Louis XIV. in 1685, Glencoe Massacre in 1691, defeat 
of Charles XII. at Pultowa in 1709, and of the death of Murillo in 1685, 
Fontaine in 1695, an ^ Lryden in 1700. 



MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS. 



305 



Pope, 
1688-1744. 



Longfellow, 
1807-1882. 



Wordsworth, 
1770-1850. 



Cowper, 
1731-1800. 



Addison, 
1672-1719. 



Dry den, 
1631-1700. 



Milton, 
1608-1674. 



?hakspeare, 
1564-1616. 



Chaucer, 

1328-1400. 



Byron, 
1788-1824. 



Bacon, 
1561-1626. 



Spenser, 
1553-1599. 



ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 

Danish. Norman-French. 

ANGLO-SAXON. 

Celtic. 



MONUMENT OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. 



306 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 



IT. — BOOKS USEFUL TO STUDENTS OP ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

1. Abbott's Shaksperian Grammar. $1.50. 

2. Adams's Dictionary of English Literature. $2.00. 

3. Allibone's Dictionary of Authors. $22.50. 

4. American Men of Letters Series. 10 vols, ready. $1.25. 

5. Arvine's Cyclopaedia of Literary Anecdotes. 

6. Bartlett's Familiar Quotations. $3.00. 

7. Bartlett's Shakspeare Phrase-Book. $3.00. 

8. Bascom's Philosophy of English Literature. $1.75. 

9. Botta's (Mrs.) Handbook of Universal Literature. $2.00. 

10. Brewer's Reader's Handbook. $3.50. 

11. Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. $2.50. 

12. Chaucer for Children. $1.00. 

13. Clarke's (Mrs.) Concordance to Shakspeare. $9.00. 

14. Cleveland's Concordance to Milton. $2.50. 

15. Duyckinck's Cyclopaedia of American Literature. $10.00. 

16. Dowden's Primer of Shakspeare. 50 cents. 

17. English Men of Letters Series. 40 or more vols., in paper. 15 to 25 

cents each. 

18. Fields's Yesterdays with Authors. $2.00. 

19. Furness's Concordance to Shakspeare's Poems. $4.00. 

20. Green's Short History of the English People. $1.75. 

21. Harris's (Miss) Pleasant Authors for Young People. $1.00. 

22. Higginson's Short Studies of American Authors. 75 cents. 

23. Hudson's English in Schools. 25 cents. 

24. Homes and Haunts of our Elder (American) Poets. $5.00. 

25. Maertz' Miscellaneous Questions in English Literature. With Key. 

$1.00 each. 

26. Lowell's My Study Windows. $2.00. 

27. Lowell's Among my Books. (2 series.) $2.00. 

28. Mitchell's (Ik Marvel) About Old Story-Tellers. $1.25. 

29. Morris's Half-Hours with Best American Authors. 4 vols. $6.00. 

30. Morris's Half-Hours with American History. 2 vols. $3.00. 

31. Pierce's Dickens Dictionary. $2.00. 

32. Porter's Books and Reading. $2.00. 

33. Richardson's (Mrs.) Stories from Old English Poetry. $1.00. 

34. Rogers's (Miss) Waverley Dictionary. $1.50. 

35. Sanborn's (Miss) Home Pictures of the English Poets. $1.50. 

36. Scoones's Four Centuries of English Letters. $2.00. 

37. Stedman's Victorian Poets. $2.00. 



MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS. 307 

38. Stedman's Poets of America. $2.25. 

39. Stoddard's Poets' Homes. $1.70. 

40. Wheeler's Dictionary of Noted Names of Fiction. $2.50. 

41. Wheeler's Familiar Allusions. $2.50. 

42. Wheeler's Who Wrote It. $2.00. 



V.— INEXPENSIVE EDITIONS OF THE ENGLISH CLASSICS. 
Intended especially for School Purposes. 

1. Macmillan's Clarendon Press Series includes the well-known Globe 
Library, Spenser, Scott, etc., price $1.25 each; the best of Shakspeare's Plays, 
35 to 50 cents each; and the various annotated texts of the great classics, as 
Spenser, Chaucer, etc., various prices. The volumes of this series are edited 
by the ablest educators and teachers of England. 

2. Rolfe's English Classics. — This excellent series includes Gray's 
Select Poems, Goldsmith's Select Poems, Milton's Minor Poems, and a 
school edition of Shakspeare's Plays in forty volumes. Illustrated, cloth, 
56 cents per volume; paper, 40 cents per volume. 

3. Rolfe's Students' Edition of Standard Poetry includes annotated 
editions of four volumes of Tennyson's Poems; Scott's Lady of the Lake, 
Marmion, Lay of the Last Minstrel ; Byron's Childe Harold; several volumes 
of Robert Browning's Select Poems. Copies for examination, 42 cents 
each. 

4. Hudson's English Authors. — These books include most of Shak- 
speare's Plays, bound in paper; paper editions of the Select Essays of 
Goldsmith, Addison, and Bacon; and Select Poems by Burns, Goldsmith, 
Coleridge, Wordsworth, etc. Price, 30 cents each. 

5. Sprague's Annotated English Classics include Six Selections 
from Irving's Sketch-Book; Milton's Lycidas; Books I. and II. of Paradise 
Lost ; and Shakspeare's Hamlet. Price, about 50 cents each. 

6. Harper's Half-Hour Series. — In this series are found the principal 
Essays of Macaulay ; Lamb's Tales from Shakspeare, 2 vols.; Lawrence's 
Primers of English and American Literature, 4 vols. ; Sir Roger de Coverley, 
with notes; Scott's best poems, printed separately; Goldsmith's Plays; 
Goldsmith's Poems; Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield; and many others of a 
miscellaneous character. Price, 25 cents each. 

7. Clark and Maynard's English Classic Series. — Sixty-five numbers 
of this series have been published. The series includes both the works of 
the old English writers and those of modern classic authors. Price, 12 cents 
each, or $1.20 per dozen. 



308 FIRST STEPS IN ENGLISH CLASSICS. 

8. Ginn's Classics for Children. — Twenty-five numbers already issued, 
including editions of Robinson Crusoe, Scott's Ivanhoe, Talisman, Guy 
Mannering, Quentin Durward, Lady of the Lake, Marmion, etc. Price, from 
25 to 40 cents each. 

g. Riverside Literature Series. — Thirty-two numbers published. Se- 
lections from standard American authors. Price, 15 cents each. 

10. Modern Classics. — School edition. Selections from the best Eng- 
lish and American authors. Thirty-three numbers published. Price, 40 
cents each. 

11. Rolfe's English Classics for School Reading, — Edited with 
notes, illustrated, for school use. The initial volume of the series, " Tales 
of Chivalry and the Olden Time " (selections from works of Sir Walter 
Scott), just published. Price, 36 cents each. 



NOTES. 



CHAPTER II. 

LONGFELLOW'S WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. Page 8. 

This fine ballad was written nearly fifty years ago. Longfellow in 
his private diary under date of Dec. 17, 1839, says, "News of horrible 
shipwrecks on the coast. Twenty bodies washed ashore near Glouces- 
ter, one lashed to a piece of wreck. There is a reef called Norman's 
Woe, where many of these took place, among others the schooner 
' Hesperus.' I must write a ballad upon this." Nearly two weeks 
afterwards, as the poet says, one night he sat till twelve o'clock by 
his fire, smoking, when suddenly it came into his mind to write the 
ballad, which he accordingly did. "The clock was striking three," 
says the diary, "when I finished the last stanza. I then went to bed, 
and fell asleep. I feel pleased with the ballad. It hardly cost me an 
effort. It did not come into my mind by lines, but by stanzas." 

SOUTHEY'S INCHCAPE ROCK. Page 16. 

The celebrated and dangerous sunken reef known as the Inch 
Cape, or Bell Rock, is in the German Ocean, on the northern side of 
the entrance of the Firth of Forth, and about twelve miles from land". 
According to an old tradition, an abbot of Aberbrothock placed a bell 
here, as a warning to sailors, which was cut loose by a Dutch rover, 
who, as a retribution for this mischievous act, was afterwards wrecked 
upon the same rock. This is the story which is told by Southey in 
his well-known ballad of " The Inchcape Rock." 

" In old times upon the saide rock there was a bell fixed upon a timber, which 
rang continually, being moved by the sea, giving notice to saylers of the danger. 
This bell was put there and maintained by the abbot of Aberbrothock ; but, being 
taken down by a sea-pirate, a yeare thereafter he perished upon the same rocke, with 
ship and goodes, in the righteous judgement of God." — Stoddart's Remarks on 
Scotland. 

3°9 



310 NOTES. 

Robert Southey, who wrote "The Inchcape Rock," was born in 
England in 1774, was educated at Westminster School, and afterwards 
studied two years at Oxford. He married the sister of Coleridge, and 
lived in the Lake district, a companion and friend of Wordsworth the 
poet. Southey's entire life was devoted to literary pursuits. His 
industry, both as a student and writer, was unparalleled in our litera- 
ture. He wrote several long poems which are almost forgotten. His 
shorter poems are still popular. His most popular prose work, the 
Life of Lord Nelson, is universally accepted as an English classic, 
and is still read by young people. Southey was appointed poet- 
laureate in 1813, and lived until 1843 to enjoy the honor. At last 
his overworked brain gave way, and he became an imbecile during 
the last three years of his life. As a man, Southey's life was without 
a stain. His cheerful disposition, scholarly habits, and a keen sense 
of honor, won for him universal respect and esteem. 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. Page 19. 

William Wordsworth, whom Lowell calls " the apostle of the im- 
agination," was born in England in 1770. He was sent to an English 
university. He neglected the regular studies, but devoted himself to the 
classics. In his youth he was a stanch republican ; but in later years 
he became a pronounced conservative, opposing every just scheme 
of political reform in his own country. He determined to become a 
poet, and endured a life of self-denial to accomplish this end. Fortu- 
nately he inherited some property which enabled him to live comfort- 
ably. He settled at last in a place called Rydal Mount, with which 
his name will always be associated. He was happily married, and 
lived to be eighty years old, having passed a happy and honored old 
age. " I do not know," says Sir Walter Scott, " a man more to be 
venerated for uprightness of heart and loftiness of genius." 

Wordsworth was a voluminous writer of poetry. He is not a 
popular poet. His was the genius of a great philosopher. Many 
of his shorter poems are simple and easily understood. His longer 
poems are only mastered after patient study. His masterpiece is 
The Excursion, a philosophical poem. As Stopford A. Brooke says, 
"Wordsworth was the greatest of the English poets of this century; 
greatest not only as a poet, but as a philosopher." 



NOTES. 311 

TENNYSON'S DORA. Page 24. 

This poem was first printed in 1842. Tennyson says it was partly 
suggested by one of Miss Mitford's charming stories, probably that 
of " Dora Cresswell" in "Our Village." 



CHAPTER III. 

SCOTT'S ROSABELLE. Page 41. 

This charming ballad is taken from Sir Walter Scott's " Lay of the 
Last Minstrel " (Canto VI. xxiii. 1. 352). " It is intended,' 1 says Jeffrey, 
"to represent that wild style of composition which prevailed among 
the bards of the Northern continent, somewhat softened and adorned 
by the minstrel's residence in the South." 

"The reader will probably be struck," says the same critic, "with 
the poetical effect of the dramatic form into which it is thrown, and 
of the indirect description by which every thing is most expressively 
told without one word of distinct narrative." 

4. Rosabelle. — " This was a family name in the house of St. Clair. 
Henry St. Clair, the second of the line, married Rosabelle, fourth 
daughter of the Earl of Stratherne.'' — Scott. 

7. Castle Ravensheuch. — A strong castle, now in ruins, situated 
on a steep crag washed by the Firth of Forth. It was long a resi- 
dence of the barons of Roslin. The word means a raven's crag or 
steep. 

10. Inch. — A Keltic word for "island." The word is attached to 
certain islands in the estuary of the Forth. 

11. Water-Sprite. — Often used in old poems, and in poems that 
imitate or refer to these. Also called the " water-wraith." Consult 
Wordsworth's " Yarrow Visited," and Campbell's " Lord Ullin's 
Daughter " (p. 44, 1. 26). 

21. The Ring they Ride. — A ring was suspended, not tightly 
fastened, but so that it could easily be detached, from a horizontal 
beam resting on two upright posts. The players rode at full speed 
through the archway thus made, and, as they went under, passed their 
lance-points, or aimed at passing them, through the ring, and so bore 
it off. 

26. A Wondroits Blaze. — See Chambers's " Book of Days," a 



312 NOTES. 

most valuable repertory of antiquarian and other information, vol. i. 
623-625 : " An old ' guide ' at Roslin used to tell how when any evil or 
death was about to befall one of them [St. Clairs], 'The chaipel aye 
appeared on fire the nicht afore.' " 

32. Hawthornden. — Near Roslin, standing on a cliff rising from 
the River Esk. The cliff abounded in caverns. 

50. With candle, with book, and with knell. — With proper reli- 
gious rites duly performed. Compare " The Tempest : " — 

" Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : 
Hark ! now I hear them, — Ding, dong, bell ! " 

THOMAS CAMPBELL. Page 43. 

Thomas Campbell, author of " Lord Ullin's Daughter," was born 
in Scotland, in 1777, and was educated at the university in Glasgow, 
his native place. He published his celebrated poem, "The Pleasures 
of Hope," in his twenty-first year. This established his reputation 
as a poet. His poems are not numerous, and it is probable that he 
composed very slowly. His well-known poems called " Hohenlinden " 
and " LochiePs Warning" were both revised by his friend Sir Walter 
Scott. Some of his longer poems are quite inferior. His shorter 
pieces, like. " The Battle of the Baltic," " Hohenlinden," " Soldier's 
Dream," and a few others, are well remembered. His poems, as a 
whole, are marked by graceful imagery, purity of thought, and ele- 
gance of language. He died in France in 1844, and was buried in 
Westminster Abbey. 

SOUTHEY'S BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. Page 45- 

This famous battle was fought Aug. 13, 1704. The Duke of 
Marlborough gained one of his great victories over the French and 
Bavarians, near the little town of Blenheim, in Bavaria. For a full 
account of the battle, see chap. ix. of Green's " Short History of the 
English People." 

TENNYSON'S LADY CLARE. Page 49. 

This poem was first published in 1842. In a note to this edition, 
the poet tells us it was suggested by Miss Ferrier's novel called 



A 7 OTES. 313 

" The Inheritance." Some ten years after the poem was published, the 
two opening stanzas in our text were substituted for the following: — 

" Lord Ronald courted Lady Clare, 
I trow they did not part in scorn ; 
Lord Ronald, her cousin, courted her, 
And they will wed the morrow morn." 

The sixteenth stanza, beginning 

" The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought," etc. 

was added at the same time. 

TENNYSON'S IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL. Page 67. 

This poem was published in 1880. "The poem has been criticised 
as ' marred a little by the needlessly harsh attack on the practice of 
modern surgery, as exhibited by one of the hospital staff;' but Mr. 
Palgrave says, ' It should be remembered that this is a little drama, in 
which the hospital nurse, not the poet, is supposed to be speaking 
throughout. The two children, whose story was published in a parish 
magazine, are the only characters here described from actual life.' He 
adds that 'this is the most absolutely pathetic poem' known to him. 

" 10. Oorali. — A drug, also known as woorali and curari, or curara. 
' It acts by paralyzing the nerves of motion, whilst the sensitiveness is 
left unimpaired '(Palgrave). It is used by the South-American Indians 
for poisoning their arrows. The reference here is to the practice of 
vivisection for purposes of physiological investigation." — Rolfe's 
Young People's Tennyson. 

SCOTT'S LOCHINVAR. Page 71. 

The ballad of " Lochinvar " is sung by Lady Heron in " Marmion." 
It is found in Canto V., stanza xii. The hero is a youth who runs off 
with his lady-love under the very eyes of her expectant bridegroom 
and relatives. Scott says that this ballad is to some extent founded 
on one which may be found in the Border Minstrelsy. 

TENNYSON'S DEFENCE OF LUCKNOW. Page 72. 

Tennyson contributed this poem in 1879 to a leading English peri- 
odical called " The Nineteenth Century." The poem celebrates the 



3 H NOTES. 

heroic deeds performed during the Sepoy rebellion in British India 
in 1857. The British garrison was shut up in Lucknow in June, 1857, 
by the insurgents. The city was heroically defended by the garrison 
for twelve long weeks, until it was relieved on Sept. 25 by Gen. Have- 
lock. The defence was one of the most heroic exploits of recent 
times. The scenes of horror and suffering are most vividly portrayed 
by the poet. 

MACAULAY'S BATTLE OF IVRY. Page 77. 

Henry the Fourth, on his accession to the French crown, was 
opposed by a large part of his subjects under the Duke of Mayence, 
with the assistance of Spain and Savoy. In March, 1590, he gained 
a decisive victory over that party at Ivry. Before the battle he ad- 
dressed his troops : " My children, if you lose sight of your colors, 
rally to my white plume ; you will always find it in the path to honor 
and glory." Nothing could resist his impetuous valor, and the 
leaguers underwent a total and bloody defeat. In the midst of the 
rout King Henry followed, crying, "Save the French!" and his clem- 
ency added a number of the enemies to his own army. 

Thomas Babington Macaulay, or Lord Macaulay as he is gener- 
ally known, was born near Leicester, Eng., in 1800. He was educated 
at Cambridge, where he won great distinction. While a young man 
he made some notable contributions to leading periodicals, such as 
the ballads of " The Spanish Armada" and "The Battle of Ivry." In 
1825 he wrote his celebrated essay on Milton for " The Edinburgh Re- 
view," which was followed by numerous other contributions on various 
subjects, historical, political, and literary. At an early age, Macaulay 
became a member of Parliament, and took a leading part in the great 
discussions of that time. He was sent to India in 1834 as a member 
of the Council, and while there wrote his famous essays on Lord Clive 
and Warren Hastings. The first two volumes of his History of 
England were published in 1842, two others appearing in 1855. 
Macaulay retired from political life in 1856, owing to failing health, 
and in the next year was created a baron in consideration of his great 
literary merit. He died suddenly in 1859 °* heart-disease, and was 
buried in Westminster Abbey. 

Macaulay excelled as a poet, was brilliant as an essayist, but is 
chiefly illustrious as a historian. His style is marked by great origi- 



NOTES. 315 

nality; it is clear, incisive, and brilliant. His language is simple, 
pithy, and idiomatic. His sentences are short, pointed, and antitheti- 
cal. No one has to read his sentences twice over to find out their 
meaning. 

CHAPTER V. 

IRVING'S VOYAGE. Page 85. 

This charming piece is the first sketch in Washington Irving's 
" Sketch-Book." The first number of this famous work was published 
in this country in 1819. Irving was then thirty-six years old. Sir 
Walter Scott had enjoyed reading Irving's " Knickerbocker," and 
therefore urged Murray, the famous bookseller, to publish the volume 
of sketches known as " The Sketch-Book." The book was cordially 
received, and the author's reputation was permanently established. 
After seventy years, this great classic retains its popularity, and is 
read and re-read in all parts of the civilized world. 

MOTLEY'S WILLIAM THE SILENT. Page 94. 

During the same year ( 1 8 1 4) that Scott published his first Wave rley 
novel, John Lothrop Motley, the brilliant historian of the Netherlands, 
was born near Boston. He graduated at Harvard College, and after- 
wards studied several years in Germany. Having written several 
novels which were not well received, he determined to devote himself 
to writing history. His first work, "The Rise of the Dutch Republic," 
was published in 1856, after the labor of ten years. This brilliant 
work raised its author, by common consent, to the front rank of illus- 
trious historians. Of his second work, "The History of the United 
Netherlands," two volumes were published in 1861, and the remaining 
two in 1868. His third and last work, "The Life of John Barneveld," 
was published in 1874. 

Mr. Motley died suddenly in England in 1877. He was buried near 
London. He was appointed minister to Austria in 1866, and to a 
similar position at the Court of St. James's in 1869. 

As an historian, Motley combined two qualities rarely united, — a 
capacity for historical research, and the power of pictorial represen- 
tation. He delighted to describe scenes of magnificence, and portrays 
with dramatic skill and power the mighty events of the long and 



316 NOTES. 

desperate struggle between Spain and the Netherlands. His style is 
wonderfully picturesque, vigorous, full of animation, and glows with 
the enthusiasm of the author. 



DICKENS'S BOB CRATCHIT'S CHRISTMAS DINNER. Page 104. 

Bob Cratchit and family are favorites with all who love Dickens's 
" Christmas Carol." This work, the first of a long series of Christmas 
stories, was published in December, 1843. It was most cordially 
received by the public, and for nearly half a century has kept its 
popularity. No sweetier, healthier, or more cheerful work of fiction 
has ever been written for young people, — or old ones too, for that 
matter. " It seems to me," says Thackeray, "a national benefit, and 
to every man or woman who reads it a personal kindness." This 
brief selection, of course, can give the reader no proper idea of the 
beauty, tenderness, and pathos of this wonderful production of the 
great novelist. The student should read the full text at his earliest 
convenience. 

Charles Dickens, a great master of fiction, was born in England in 
18 1 2. His early life was one of hardship and self-denial. He was 
placed by his father in a London attorney's office, but disliking the 
work he became a newspaper reporter. In this occupation he became 
shrewd and skilful. Under the name"Boz"he contributed several 
sketches to a London magazine. Shortly afterwards he published the 
first part of the "Pickwick Papers." It proved to be a remarkable 
success, and established the author's success on a solid foundation. 
Novel after novel now proceeded from his ready pen, every thing 
that he wrote being eagerly welcomed by an enthusiastic public. In 
later years Dickens gave readings from his own works. They proved 
very successful, both in this country and in England. 

Dickens died suddenly in 1870. His untimely death was lamented 
over the whole civilized world. His novels deal with life as exhibited 
among the middle and lower classes of society. They are character- 
ized by a constant flow of spirits and drollery, grotesqueness and 
pathos. His characters are so exquisitely described, that their names 
and pet phrases have become woven into the common speech of 
people. 

Dickens was a short, thick-set man of sturdy growth. He delighted 



NOTES. 



317 



in out-door sports, and for years was given to taking long walks daily 
in all kinds of weather. He was passionately fond of children, quaint 
odd characters, and took unceasing delight in all kinds of pets, espe- 
cially birds and dogs. Of a nature kind, unselfish, sympathetic, and 
generous, he was universally beloved by people of every station of 
life. 

PRESCOTT'S ABDICATION OF CHARLES THE FIFTH. Page no. 

William Hickling Prescott, the distinguished historian, was born 
in Salem, Mass., in 1796. He entered Harvard College at an early 
age, but an accidental injury to one of his eyes caused him to change 
his plans in life. He determined upon a life devoted to literature. He 
entered upon a most rigid and thorough preparation. His first work, 
published in 1837, the " History of Ferdinand and Isabella," cost him 
ten of the best years of his life. The "Conquest of Mexico" was 
published in 1843, anc * the "Conquest of Peru " in 1847. He next 
undertook the "History of Philip II." Three volumes were issued 
when Prescott died suddenly in 1859. 

Prescott holds a high rank as an historian. His works are filled 
with brilliant scenes and episodes. He was most thorough and pains- 
taking in all that he undertook. His style is remarkable for its clear- 
ness and vivid descriptions. He possessed to an eminent degree love 
of truth, impartiality, and discriminating judgment. 

Mr. Prescott was a tall and handsome man, universally beloved for 
his pleasing manners and kindly disposition. With an ample fortune, 
and with all his worldly honors, he always kept that simplicity of 
character and kindness of heart that made his name reverenced alike 
by the rich and poor. 

MACAULAY'S TRIAL OF WARREN HASTINGS. Page 119. 

Lord Macaulay's splendid essays on Lord Clive and Warren Hast- 
ings are the finest productions of the kind in our literature. This 
selection is taken from the essay on Hastings. At the best it is only 
a specimen, and hence the young student from its study can get only a 
faint idea of. the scope of this masterly essay. Warren Hastings, 
one of the ablest of all the able men sent to India as its governor- 
general, was impeached by and brought to trial before. the House of 



318 NOTES. 

Lords in 1788 for cruelty and various misdemeanors. "I hardly 
know of a story so interesting," says Macaulay, "and of such various 
interests. The central figure is in the highest degree striking and 
interesting. I think Warren Hastings, though far from faultless, one 
of the greatest men that England ever produced." This essay on 
Hastings was published in the "Edinburgh Review" for October, 
1 841. It has been universally admired for its style. It is written 
with the greatest force and picturesqueness, full of allusion, illustra- 
tion, grace, clearness, and point. 

The Plantagenets, whose name was derived from the pianta genista, 
the Spanish broom-plant, a sprig of which was commonly worn by 
Geoffrey, the father of Henry II., reigned over England for more than 
three centuries (1154-1485). 

Willia?n Rufus. — William II. ([087-1100), surnamed Rufus, or 
the Red, from the color of his hair, erected Westminster Hall, which 
still remains a noble specimen of the architecture of the time. 

The celebrated Lord Bacon was impeached for taking bribes and 
other corrupt practices. He was sentenced to pay a fine of forty 
thousand pounds, to be imprisoned in the Tower, and to be forever 
incapable of any office, place, or employment. In consideration of 
his great merit, the King soon released him from the Tower, and 
remitted his fine and other parts of his sentence. 

Lord Sowers, lord chancellor in the reign of William III., was 
impeached for alleged illegal practices, but was acquitted. 

The Earl of Strafford was impeached and tried on a charge of 
treason in Westminster Hall. He gained many friends by the elo- 
quence of his defence. Strafford was afterward tried by a "bill of 
attainder," condemned to death, and beheaded in 1641. 

Charles L. was impeached as "a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and a 
public and implacable enemy to the Commonwealth," and brought to 
trial before the High Court of Justice assembled in Westminster Hall 
in 1649. With great temper and dignity he declined to submit him- 
self to the jurisdiction of the court, on the ground that he was their 
hereditary king. 

Gibraltar endured a memorable siege of more than three years at 
this time. It was bravely defended by Gen. Elliot, with a garrison of 
five thousand men. Gen. Elliot, on his return to England in 1787, 
was raised to the peerage as Lord Heathfield of Gibraltar. 



NOTES. 319 

Prince of Wales. — Afterwards George IV. At this time the 
prince was twenty-six years of age, of dissolute habits, and a spend- 
thrift. 

The Queen. — The wife of George III., and Queen of England. 
The House of Brunswick, or Hanover, includes the rulers of England 
from George I. to Victoria. 

Sarah Siddons (1 755-1 831). — The famous tragic actress. She was 
at this time thirty-three years old, and was at the height of her fame. 

Historian of the Roman Empire. — Edward Gibbon (1 737-1 794), 
the great historian of " The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," 
finished his masterly work only the year before, in 1787. 

Cicero (106 B.C. -43 B.C.). — The illustrious Roman orator. The 
infamous Verres, praetor of Sicily, was impeached for atrocious acts 
of cruelty and rapine. Cicero conducted the prosecution of Verres, 
who employed Hortensius to defend him. 

Tacitus. — A celebrated Roman historian who flourished in the 
first century. 

The Greatest Painter. — Sir Joshua Reynolds (1 723-1 792), the cele- 
brated painter, the friend of Dr. Johnson, Burke, Goldsmith, and other 
great men of his time. 

The Greatest Scholar. — Samuel Parr (1747-1825) enjoyed in his 
time an extraordinary reputation for scholarship. 

Elizabeth Montague (1 720-1 800). — A celebrated English lady who 
numbered among her friends the most eminent people of the day, — 
Burke, Goldsmith, Dr. Johnson, Reynolds, and Hannah More. 

Charles James Eox( 1749- 1806). — The great statesman and orator. 
Burke called him " the greatest debater the world ever saw." 

Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire (1 757-1806). — An English lady 
famed for her beauty and accomplishments. She was a personal friend 
of Fox, for whom, it is said, she bought votes by granting electors the 
privilege of kissing her. 

William Pitt (1 759-1806). — Son of the great Earl of Chatham. 
His genius and ambition displayed themselves with almost unexampled 
precocity. At the age of twenty-five, Pitt ruled absolutely over the 
English Cabinet, and was the most powerful subject that England had 
seen for many generations. For seventeen eventful years he held his 
great position without a break. Cf. Macaulay's biography of William 
Pitt. 



320 NOTES. 

Lord North. — The prime minister of England during the Ameri- 
can Revolution. " A more amiable man never lived,'' says Earl 
Russell; "a worse minister never since the Revolution governed this 
country." Lord North was fifty-six years old at this time. 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751-1816). — The brilliant orator, and 
author of the popular plays, " The Rivals " and " School for Scandal." 
His great speech urging the impeachment of Hastings is still tradi- 
tionally remembered as, perhaps, the very grandest triumph of oratory 
in a time prolific of such triumphs. 

Hyperides. — A famous Athenian orator, put to death in 322 B.C. 
Cicero ranks him next to Demosthenes. His orations have all been 
lost. 

William Windham (1 750-1810). — Secretary of war under Mr. 
Pitt, an excellent speaker, and a most effective debater. Fox, Pitt, 
Canning, Dr. Johnson, and other great men of that time, gave Wind- 
ham the highest praise. In his lifetime he gained the nickname of 
" the weathercock." 

The Youngest Manager. — Charles, Earl Grey (1 764-1 845). Plead 
of the government which carried the Reform Bill in 1832, and a dis- 
tinguished English statesman. It was said that a more honorable 
man never lived. 

Cowper, the Clerk of the Court. — This gentleman gave William 
Cowper, the poet, the lucrative office of clerk of the journals of the 
House of Lords, which was accepted; but being obliged to appear 
personally at the bar of the House for examination, the sensitive poet 
was seized with nervousness, and dared not appear. 



CHAPTER ,VIII. 

IRVING'S CHRISTMAS EVE. Page 152. 

The House. — The author is invited by his friend, Frank Brace- 
bridge, to pass the holidays at the family mansion of the Bracebridges, 
"where," said his host, "I can assure you of a hearty welcome in 
something of the old-fashioned style." Consult Irving's separate 
work called " Bracebridge Hall." 

The Old Games. — Many of the old Christmas games resembled 
those now played by young people. " Hoodman blind " is the same 



NOTES. 321 

as blindman's-buff. In "hot cockles," one is blindfolded, and seeks 
to guess who strikes at him. In "snap-dragon," the sport is to see 
the player snatch dainties from a bowl of blazing brandy. 

Mistletoe. — A common plant, growing on hardy trees, like the oak. 
It was reverently regarded by the Druids, and used in their religious 
worship. The mistletoe is still hung up in farmhouses and kitchens 
at Christmas ; and the young men have the privilege of kissing the 
girls under it, plucking, each time, a berry from the bush. When 
the berries are all plucked, the privilege ceases. 

The Yule Clog is a great log of wood, sometimes the root of a 
tree, brought into the house with great ceremony on Christmas Eve, 
laid in the fireplace, and lighted with the brand of last year's clog. 
While it lasted, there was great drinking, singing, and telling of tales. 
Sometimes it was accompanied by Christmas candles ; but in the 
cottages the only light was from the ruddy blaze of the great wood 
fire. The Yule clog was to burn all night ; if it went out, it was con- 
sidered a sign of ill-luck. Herrick mentions it in one of his songs : — 

" Come, bring with a noise, 

My merrie, merrie boyes, 
The Christmas log to the firing; 

While my good dame, she 

Bids ye all be free, 
And drink to your hearts' desiring." 

The Yule clog is still burnt in many farmhouses and kitchens in 
England, particularly in the North, and there are several superstitions 
connected with it among the peasantry. If a squinting person come 
to the house while it is burning, or a person barefooted, it is con- 
sidered an ill omen. The brand remaining from the Yule clog is 
carefully put away to light the next year's Christmas fire. 

Cf. article on Christmas and its sports in Chambers's "Book of 
Days." 

Holly. — A shrub well known by its glistening green leaves and 
scarlet berries. It is intimately associated with all that pertains to 
the celebration of Christmas. The holly plays an important part in 
Christmas literature, especially in Dickens's " Christmas Stories." 

Buffet. — A kind of sideboard on which the household china, glass- 
ware, etc., were placed. 



322 NOTES. 

Frumenty (Latin, frumentum, wheat). — A kind of wheat gruel, 
sweetened and made palatable with rich spices. 

"No spirit dares stir abroad" — Quotation from " Hamlet," Act 
I., Scene i. 

Tester (Old French, teste, the head). — Top covering or canopy 
of a bed, supported by the bedstead. 

Waits (German, wacht, or wache; English, watch). — Musicians 
who perform at night, or in the early morning. In this connection, 
waits are musicians who play during the night, or early in the morn- 
ing, for two or three weeks before Christmas. See Chambers's " Book 
of Days," vol. ii. 

IRVING'S RETURN OF RIP VAN WINKLE. Page 156. 

Red Night-Cap. — During the French Revolution the red cap was 
regarded as the symbol of liberty. Irving represents the villagers as 
having erected a liberty-pole with a red cap on its top, and flung the 
American flag to the breezes, thereby celebrating the recently acquired 
independence of the country. 

King George. — George III., King of England, began to reign 
1760, died 1820. 

Federal or De?nocrat. — At the time of the formation and adoption 
of the Constitution of the United States, one political party favored 
it, and were called Federalists ; the other opposed it, and were called 
Democrats. These two parties also had opposite views concerning 
the foreign and domestic policy of the new nation. 

Akimbo. — Derivation is obscure, probably relating to the Keltic 
kam, or cam, crooked. Dryden has, " The kimbo handles seem with 
bear's foot carved " Halliwell has, " Arms on kemboll ; " i.e., akimbo. 
To rest the hand on the hip, with the elbow thrown forward and out. 

Tory. — During the Revolution, one who opposed the war and 
favored the claims of Great Britain was called a Tory. 

Stony Point. — A rocky promontory on the Hudson River. A fort 
on its top was captured from the British by Gen. Anthony Wayne, in 
1779, by a brilliant assault. 

Antony's Nose. — Fanciful name of another rocky promontory on 
the Hudson. Why it came to have this name, see Irving's "History 
of New York," Book VI., chap. iv. 



NOTES. 323 

Hendrick Hudson. — During his second voyage in search of a 
north-west passage to India, this celebrated navigator discovered the 
Hudson River, in 1609. The "Half-moon" was the name of his 
vessel. 



CHAPTER X. 

GOLDSMITH'S DESERTED VILLAGE. Page 171. 

Six years after Goldsmith established his poetical reputation by 
publishing " The Traveller," and four after the publication of " The 
Vicar of Wakefield," the genial Irish author published his " Deserted 
Village," in 1770. The poem was at once successful, and ran through 
six editions in a few months. Goldsmith dedicated his poem to his 
friend Sir Joshua Reynolds, the great painter, who soon after painted 
a picture on which was inscribed, " This attempt to express a charac- 
ter in 'The Deserted Village ' is dedicated to Dr. Goldsmith by his 
sincere friend and admirer, Sir Joshua Reynolds." 

The intention of the poet in this poem was to depict the melan- 
choly change caused by emigration on a country village, and to 
denounce the state of society which rendered such emigrations possi- 
ble. Many of the features in the description of the village in its 
prosperity are, doubtless, borrowed from his native Pallas, — such as 
that of the village school. " No poetical piece of equal length," says 
Washington Irving, "has been more universally read by all classes, 
or has more frequently supplied extracts for apt quotation. It 
abounds with couplets and single lines, so simply beautiful in senti- 
ment, so musical in cadence, and so perfect in expression, that the 
ear is delighted to retain them for their melody, the mind treasures 
them for their truth, while their tone of tender melancholy indelibly 
engraves them on the heart." 

1. Auburn. — This name was suggested to Goldsmith by a friend. 
It has been quite fancifully identified with Lissoy, a little village in 
Ireland. 

17. Train. — This word is often used by Goldsmith. 

40. Stints thy smiling plain. — " Deprives thy plain of the beauty 
and luxuriance that once characterized it." — Hales. 

44. Bittern. — Remarkable for its booming cry, usually inhabits 
marshes. (See Isa. xiv. 23, xxxiv. 11.) 



324 NOTES. 

53. See " Cotters Saturday Night," 1. 165. 

" Princes and lords are but the breath of kings." 

54. This line is imitated from one in Pope, " Imitations of Horace," 
Book I. chap. i. line 298. 

Who pants for glory finds but short repose; 
A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows." 

57. This assertion as to the former state of England can scarcely 
be borne out by the facts. Macaulay (chap. iii. vol. i. of " History of 
England ") says, " It seems highly probable that a fourth part of Eng- 
land has been, in the course of little more than a century [from 
George II.], turned from a wild to a garden." 

65. Perhaps Goldsmith was thinking of Horace ("Odes," Book II. 
15), who says, " Soon these princely piles will leave few acres for the 
plough," speaking of the passion for building which prevailed in Italy 
in his time. 

68. Every evil that a foolish indulgence in unnecessary expenditure 
brings with it. 

83-96. " How touchingly expressive are the succeeding lines ! 
wrung from a heart which all the trials and temptations and buffet- 
ings of the world could not render worldly ; which in spite of a 
thousand follies and errors of the head, still retained its childlike 
innocence." — Irving. 

107. Latter end. — The phrase is common in the Bible. See, for 
example, Prov. xix. 20, Job.viii. 7, Num. xxiv. 20. 

140. This description of the village preacher is taken from the 
author's brother, the Rev. Henry Goldsmith, to whom he dedicated 
"The Traveller." From that dedication we learn that line 142 is 
literally true. But no doubt many of the traits in the character were 
common to Goldsmith's father and brother. 

142. Passing. — Used in the sense of "exceedingly." 

155. The broken soldier. — Campbell's " Soldiers Dream : " — ■ 

" And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay." 

Cf. Virgil's ^neid, ii. 13 : " fracti bello" 

196. The original of the village schoolmaster is supposed to have 
been Thomas Byrne, the schoolmaster at Lissoy, who was Goldsmith's 



NOTES. 325 

first teacher. Irving gives a charming sketch of this quaint teacher 
in his Life of Goldsmith. 

209. Tides. — Times, seasons. Cf. " King John," III. i. 85. 

" Among the high tides in the calendar." 

221. Nut-brown ; i.e., draughts of nut-brown ale. 
Cf. Milton's " L'Allegro," 100 : " spicy nut-brown ale." There is a 
famous old ballad of " The Nut-brown Maid." What is the meaning 
of the expression here ? 

232. Twelve good rules. — Goldsmith's " Citizen of the World," 
letter 30: " And the twelve rules the Royal Martyr [Charles I.] drew." 
See Crabbe's ''Parish Register," Part I., of the pictures possessed by 
'•the industrious swain : " — 

" There is King Charles and all his golden rules, 
Who proved misfortune"s was the best of schools." 

These rules were: 1. Urge no healths. 2. Profane no divine ordi- 
nances. 3. Touch no State matters. 4. Reveal no secrets. 5. Pick 
no quarrels. 6. Make no companions. 7. Maintain no ill opinions. 
8. Keep no bad company. 9. Encourage no vice. 10. Make no long 
meals, n. Repeat no grievances. 12. Lay no wagers. 

Royal game of goose. — An obsolete game described in Strutt's 
' k Sports and Pastimes " (Book IV. chap. ii..). 

243. Barber's tale. — The garrulity of barbers in Goldsmith's day, 
as in our own, afforded a favorite theme for jest. 

244. Woodman. — Once, one who was a hunter; now, a wood- 
chopper. 

248. Mantling bliss. — The intoxicating cup. Cf. Pope, — 

" The brain dances to the mantling bowl." 
Tennyson's " In Memoriam," civ. : . 

" Bowl of wassail, mantle warm." 

283. " He seems to mean that the country exports more than its 
surplus productions, bartering for foreign luxuries what it really needs 
for home consumption." — Rolfe. 

304. To scape. — This word is found in both prose and poetry. 
Bacon and Shakspeare both use it instead of escape. 



326 NOTES. 

322. Torches glare. — In olden times, before street-lights came 
into use, rich people had a servant precede them with torches as they 
went abroad at night. 

332. This passage is very like one in Goldsmith's "Citizen of the 
World," letter cxvii. 

344. Altama. — The Altamaha River is in Georgia. 

349. Birds forget to sing. — Alluding to the well-known fact, that 
tropical birds, with all their brilliant plumage, are not generally singers. 

418. Torno's cliffs. — There is a Lake Tornea in the extreme north 
of Sweden. The poet Campbell says, " Cold as the rocks on Torneo's 
hoary brow." A river called Tornea or Tarneo forms a boundary 
between Sweden and Russia. Pambamarca, a mountain in South 
America, near Quito. 

427. Boswell tells us that the last four lines of this poem were 
written by Dr. Johnson. 

428. Mole. — A breakwater at the entrance of a harbor. 



CHAPTER XI. 

BRYANT'S TO A WATERFOWL. Page 186. 

When Bryant was a young man and was on his way to Plainfield, 
where he was about to begin the practice of law, he witnessed the 
flight of a wild duck. The incident suggested this poem. It is thus 
described in Parke Godwin's life of the poet: — 

"He says in a letter, that he felt, as he walked up the hills, very 
forlorn and desolate indeed, not knowing what was to become of him in 
the big world, which grew bigger as he ascended, and yet darker with 
the coming-on of night. The sun had already set, leaving behind it 
one of those brilliant seas of chrysolite and opal which often flood the 
New-England skies ; and, while he was looking upon the rosy splen- 
dor with rapt admiration, a solitary bird made wing along the illu- 
minated horizon. He watched the lone wanderer until it was lost 
in the distance, asking himself whither it had come, and to what far 
home it was flying. When he went to the house where he was to 
stop for the night, his mind was still full of what he had seen and felt ; 
and he wrote those lines, as imperishable as our language, 'The 
Water-Fowl.' " , 



NOTES. 327 

This beautiful little poem has always been a favorite with the 
earnest reader. It emphasizes clearly and strongly the lesson of trust 
in Divine goodness. 

" Nothing more exquisite can be conceived," says Dr. Ray Palmer, 
"than the picture it presents to the mental eye of the imaginative 
reader. The melody of the verse is as sweet as it is simple. The 
choice of language is perfect. Made up very largely of monosyllabic 
words, the stanzas are clear and strong." 

BRYANTS THANATOPSIS. Page 188. 

This celebrated poem, for over seventy years recognized as one of 
the few great poems of American literature, was written by Bryant 
before he was twenty years old. Some six years after it was written, 
Dr. Bryant, the poet's father, discovered the manuscript among his 
son's papers, and forwarded it for publication in the " North American 
Review " for 181 7. As originally printed, the poem comprised only 
about one-half of the verses now included in the production. Addi- 
tions and slight alterations were subsequently made by the author. 

The poem was well received on its first appearance. It was 
generally recognized as a standard production. Professor Wilson 
(Christopher North) praised the po'em as "a noble example of true 
poetic enthusiasm," and said that " it alone would establish the author's 
claim to the honors of genius." 

The word " Thanatopsis " signifies a view or contemplation of 
death ; from two Greek words meaning " a view of death." The poem 
is, in brief, a solemn meditation on the thoughts naturally associated 
with that last " bitter hour " which sooner or later must come to us all. 

37. The hills. — The force and beauty of the epithets in this 
passage are noteworthy. 

50. Take the wings. — Cf. Ps. cxxxix. 9. 

51. Pierce the Barcan wilderness. — First written "the Barcan 
desert pierce," afterwards changed to " traverse Barca's desert sands." 
In the later editions, the present reading is given. Barca is a coun- 
try in Northern Africa, bordering on the Great Desert. 

53. Oregon. — Another name for the Columbia River. At the time 
Bryant wrote, this part of the country was an unknown wilderness. 

58-59. Other readings are, " what if thou shouldst fall," and " what 
if thou withdraw unheeded by the living." 



328 NOTES. 

66. Make their bed. — Cf. Ps. cxxxix. 8. 

70. In the place of this line, Bryant formerly wrote : — 

" The bowed with age, the infant in the smiles 
And beauty of its innocent age cut off." 

7 5. To that mysterious realm. — Originally written, "To the pale 
realms of shade." 



CHAPTER XII. 

GRAY'S ELEGY. Page 193. 

Gray began his celebrated Elegy in the year 1742, but did not 
finish it until seven years later. To the great annoyance of the 
author, it found its way into print in 1749, from private copies of 
the manuscript presented to his friends. The poem was published 
with the sanction of the author, in 1750. There is little in the Elegy 
to localize the place where it was written or meditated; but it is gen- 
erally conceded to be Stoke Pogis, where Gray's mother lived after 
his father's death. In this churchyard his mother was buried, and 
years afterwards, at his own request, the poet was also laid beside his 
beloved mother. 

The Elegy is perhaps the most widely-known poem in our litera- 
ture. Some of its verses are as familiar as household words to every 
cultivated person. 

" The reason of this extensive popularity," says Hales in his 
" Longer English Poems," " is perhaps to be sought in the fact that it 
expresses, in an exquisite manner, feelings and thoughts that are 
universal. The Elegy deals with the mysteries of life in no lofty, 
philosophical manner, but in a simple, humble, unpretentious way, 
always with the truest and the broadest - humanity." 

" Had Gray written nothing but his Elegy," says Lord Byron, 1 
"high as he stands, I am not sure that he would not stand higher; itj 
is the corner-stone of his glory." 

1. The Curfew. — It is a great mistake to suppose that the ringing 1 
of the curfew was, at its institution, a mark of Norman oppression. 
If such a custom was unknown before the Conquest, it only shows 
that the old English police was less well regulated than that of many 
parts of the Continent, and how much the superior civilization of the 



NOTES. 329 

Norman-French was needed. Fires were the curse of the timber- 
built towns of the Middle Ages. The enforced extinction of domestic 
lights at an appointed signal was designed to be a safeguard against 
them. — Hales. 

3. The ploughman . . . way. — A critic in "The North-American 
Review " points out that this line is quite peculiar in its possible trans- 
formations, and adds that he has made " twenty different versions pre- 
serving the rhythm, the general sentiment, and the rhyming word." 

13. As he stands in the churchyard, he thinks only of the poorer 
people, because the better-to-do lay interred inside the church. 
Tennyson (" In Memoriam," X.) speaks of resting 

" beneath the clover sod 
That takes the sunshine and the rains, 
Or where the kneeling hamlet drains 
The chalice of the grapes of God." 

In Gray's time, and long before, and some time after it, the former 
resting-place was for the poor, the latter for the rich. — Hales. 

22. Hales remarks that " this is probably the kind of phrase that 
caused Wordsworth to pronounce the language of the Elegy unintel- 
ligible." Wordsworth, however, conveys the idea in the following 
direct manner : — 

•' And she I cherished turned her wheel 
Beside an English fire." 

23. No children run, etc. — Cf. Burns' "Cotter's Saturday Night," 
21. 

33-36. The boast of heraldry . . . to the grave. — This solemnly 
impressive stanza is associated with a striking event in American 
history. On the night before the attack on Quebec, as the boats were 
silently descending the St. Lawrence, the gallant Gen. Wolfe "re- 
peated in a low tone to the other officers in his boat, those beautiful 
stanzas with which a country churchyard inspired the muse of Gray ; 
and at the close of the recitation, ' Now, gentlemen, I would rather 
be the author of that poem than take Quebec' " For himself, he was 
within a few hours to find fulfilment of that noble line, — 

" The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 

— Swintons' Manual of Englhh Classics. 



330 NOTES. 

44. Dull, cold ear. — Cf. Shakspeare, Henry VIII., iii. 2. 
" And sleep in dull, cold marble." 

51. Rage. — This word is commonly used by the older writers for 
inspiration, enthusiasm. 

57. Hampden. — John Hampden (1594-1647), a distinguished Eng- 
lish patriot and statesman. He was a cousin to Oliver Cromwell. 
In 1636 Hampden refused to pay the ship-money tax which King 
Charles levied without the authority of the Parliament. See Macau- 
lay's " Essay on John Hampden." 

60. Cromwell. — Oliver Cromwell became lord protector of Eng- 
land in 1653. In the eighteenth century, the feeling against him 
was exceedingly bitter. 

85. In explanation of this difficult stanza, Hales suggests that " it 
is better to take the phrase, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, as in fact 
the completion of the predicate resigned, and interpret thus : ' Who 
ever resigned this life of his, with all its pleasures and all its pains, to 
be utterly ignored and forgotten ? ' = ' Who ever, when resigning it, 
reconciled himself to its being forgotten ?' In this case the second 
half of the stanza echoes the thought of the first half." 

Why not make the phrase in Italics, in apposition to who? In this 
case, give a free paraphrase of the lines. 

115. Lay. — Refers to the rhymed epitaph which follows. 

116. Here the original copy contained this stanza: — 

" There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, 

By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ; 
The redbreast loves to build and warble there, 
And little footsteps lightly print the ground." 



CHAPTER XIV. 

BURNS'S COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. Page 212. 

The " Cotter's Saturday Night," a noble picture of the domestic 
happiness and devotion of his father's family, was written by Robert 
Burns in 1785. It is dedicated to an intimate friend, Robert Aiken, 
a lawyer in the town of Ayr, Scotland. The poem at once attained 
great popularity, which it has maintained for over a century, wherever 



NOTES. 331 

the English language is spoken. It has frequently furnished subjects 
for the artist. The Cotter is a poetical representation of Burns's 
father. The poem is written partly in the Ayrshire dialect, and partly 
in English. The more homely passages are written in the poet's dia- 
lect, in the more exalted he uses pure English. The Spenserian 
stanza of nine lines each is the metre used. " It is easy," says Hales 
in his " Longer English Poems," " to see in this piece the influence 
of Gray, of Goldsmith, and of Pope ; but easier still to observe the 
freshness and originality of it. There are few, if any, 'interiors' in 
our literature that rival the one here given for truthfulness, and sincere 
but not exaggerated sentiment." * 

1. Friend. — Robert Aiken. See Introductory Note. 

6. Lowly train. — A favorite word with writers of the last cen- 
tury. Goldsmith uses it several times in "The Deserted Village." 

9. I ween. — Perhaps the difficulty of satisfying the severe rhym- 
ing exactions of the Spenserian stanza may partly account for the 
liberal use of archaic words and forms, and of superfluous phrases, 
by all writers of it. Spenser himself takes strange liberties. — Hales. 

10. Angry sngh. — With angry sough, or moaning sound. 
12. Beasts. — Cattle ; frae, from ; pleugh, plough. 

15. Moil. — Toil. Cf. Dryden,— 

" Now he must moil and drudge for one he loathes." 

18. Cf. Gray's " Elegy," 3. 

21. Toddlin. — Walking with short steps. Stacker. — stagger. 

22. Flichterin. — Corresponds to our word fluttering. 

23. Ingle. — Fire, fireplace. Wee is common in colloquial English. 
In Shakspeare, Simple speaks of Master Slender's "little wee face." 

24. Wifie. — The Scotch idiom is rich in diminutive forms. 

26. Carkin. — Care. Cark is found in the Elizabethan writers. 

27. Toil. — Pronounced something like tile, in the last century. 
It rhymes here with beguile. 

28. Bflyve. — Presently. Bairn is a later form of the old word 
beam, children. 

30. Cd. — Drive; strictly, call. Tentie rin. — Run needfully. A 
corruption of " attentive." 
3 r . Cannie. — Careful. 
34. Braw. — Brave, in the sense oifine. Often used in Shakspeare. 



332 NOTES. 

35. Sair-won. — Dear-won, hard-earned. Penny-fee. — Wages paid 
in money. 

38. Speirs. — From a very old English word meaning to tread on 
the heels ; hence, to track, to investigate. 

40. Uncos. — Uncouth, i.e., unknown things = news. 

44. Gars. — Makes, compels. Claes. — Clothes. WeeVs. — Well as. 

47. Younker. — Youngsters, 

48. Eydent. — Diligent. 

49. Jauk. — Trifle. 

51. Duty. — Expression of dutifulness. Prayers. 

52. Gang. — Go. The noun "gang" meant, originally, a band of 
persons (usually bad characters) going together. Cf. Acts ix. 2, xxii. 4. 

59. Conscious flame. — The word conscious was popular with the 
writers of the last century, a use derived from the Latin poets. 

62. Hafflins. — Half. 

64. Ben. — From a very old English word meaning within. The 
inner part of the house. 

6y. Cracks. — Talks. In Shakspeare the word often means, to 
boast. Kye. — Cows. 

69. Biate. — Same as blait, bleat; meaning bashful. Laithfu '. — 
Loathful, reluctant, unwilling, shy. 

72. Lave. — From a very old English word meaning what is left, 
the rest. 

92. Parritch. — Porridge, commonly of oatmeal. 

93. Soupe. — Means here milk. Haivkie. — Pet name for a cow, 
properly one with a white face. 

94. Hallen. The partition between the fireplace and the door. 

96. Weel haiii'd. — Well spared, carefully kept. Kebbuck. — Cheese. 
Fell. — Tasty. 

99. Towmond. — Tolmonth, = twal-month, twelvemonth. Sin" 1 lint 
was V the bell. — Since flax was in flower. The idea is, that the cheese 
was a year old last flax-blossoming. 

103. Hd Bible. — Literally the hall-Bible, the Bible kept in the 
hall or chief room. The family Bible. 

104. Bonnet. — In old English, as in Scotch still, denoted a man's 
head covering. 

105. Lyart. — Mixed gray. Haffets. — Temples. 
107. Wales. — Chooses. An old English word. 



NOTES. 



"7 •? 
35, 



111-113. Dundee, Elgin. — Well known Scottish psalm-tunes. 
113. Beets the flame.— Supplies the flame with fuel. 
143. Society. — Not company, but social enjoyment. 

165. See " The Deserted Village," 1. 53. 

166. See Pope's "Essay on Man," iv. 274. 

182. Wallace. — Burns cherished a profound admiration for 
William Wallace. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

TENNYSON'S ULYSSES. Page 244. 

Texxysox's masterly poem of " Ulysses " was first published in 
1842. It has been called by a critic as "the soul of all Homer." 
The masculine spirit of these seventy lines can hardly be surpassed 
in our literature. It has been said that '-the germ, the spirit, and the 
sentiment of this poem are from the twenty-sixth canto of Dante's 
'Inferno.'" Bayne speaks of "Ulysses" as " one of the healthiest 
and most masterly of all Tennyson's poems." Stedman says that "for 
virile grandeur and astonishingly compact expression, there is no 
blank-verse poem, equally restricted as to length, that approaches 
' Ulysses ; ' conception, imagery, and thought are royally imaginative, 
and the assured hand is Tennyson's throughout." 

Ulysses, as it is well known, was one of the leading Greek heroes 
engaged in the war against Troy. His valiant deeds are celebrated 
by Homer in his "Odyssey." In this poem the old Greek hero 
stands as the type of all aspiring souls. 

As the poem opens, Ulysses is supposed to have finished his 
adventurous wanderings of twenty years, and to have returned home 
to the rugged crags of the island of Ithaca, over which he ruled. The 
aged wife is Penelope. 

10. The rainy Hyades. — A cluster of five stars in the head of 
Taurus, supposed by the ancients to indicate the approach of rainy 
weather when they rose with the sun. 

63. Happy Isles, the " Fortunate Isles," or Islands of the Blest. 
The early Greeks, as we learn from Homer, placed the Elysian Fields, 
into which the favored heroes passed without dying, at the extremity 
of the earth, near the river Oceanus. In poems later than Homer, an 
island is spoken of as their abode, and is placed by the poets beyond 
the Pillars of Hercules. The name " Fortunate Isles " was after- 
wards applied to the Canaries. 



334 NOTES. 

TENNYSON'S SIR GALAHAD. Page 246. 

" Sir Galahad is a noble picture of a religious knight. He is almost 
as much a mystic as a soldier, both a monk and a warrior of the ideal 
type. He foregoes the world as much as if he lived within the mon- 
astery walls, and esteems his sword as sacred to the service of God 
as if it were a cross. His rapture is altogether that of the mystic. 
He is just the embodiment of the noblest and the strongest tendencies 
of the chivalric age." — Tainsh's Study of the Works of Tennyson. 

42. The Holy Grail. — This was generally said to be the vessel or 
platter used by Christ at the last supper, in which Joseph of Arima- 
thea caught the blood of the crucified Christ, and by whom it was 
said to have been brought to Britain. It vanished from sight when 
approached by any one not perfectly pure. The legends of Arthur 
and the Knights of the Round Table were founded upon the legend 
of the search for it. Sir Galahad, it is said, at last succeeded in 
finding it. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

ADDISON'S SPECTATOR. Page 251. 

These essays are taken from Addison's contributions to the 
" Spectator," of which the first number appeared on the 1st of March, 
1 7 1 1 . This famous periodical was published daily, and each number 
was an essay on a great variety of subjects. The "Spectator" was 
issued six hundred and thirty-five times, but these issues were not 
consecutive. It appeared every morning in the shape of a single leaf, 
and was received at the breakfast-tables of most persons of taste then 
living in London. It has since passed through innumerable editions. 
" Under the circumstances, the sale of the ' Spectator,' " says Macau- 
lay, " must be considered as indicating a popularity quite as great as 
that of the most successful works of Sir Walter Scott and Dickens in 
our own time." In the course of the work, several fictitious persons 
were introduced as friends of the supposed editor, partly for amuse- 
ment, and partly for the purpose of quoting them on occasions where 
their opinions might be supposed appropriate. Thus, a country gentle- 
man was described under the name of Sir Roger de Coverley, to whom 
reference was made when matters connected with rural affairs were in 



NOTES. 335 

question. A Captain Sentry stood up for the army, Will Honeycomb 
gave law on all things concerning the gay world, and Sir Andrew 
Freeport represented the commercial interest. Of these characters, 
Sir Roger was by far the most happily delineated. It is understood 
that he was entirely a being of Addison's imagination ; and certainly, 
in the whole round of English fiction, there is no character delineated 
with more masterly strokes of humor and tenderness. 

It is understood, of course, that half a dozen essays from the 
" Spectator " can give the young student no proper idea of the scope 
of this masterly series of five or six hundred essays. As a whole, 
they have the interest of a novel, and give a lively and powerful pic- 
ture of the common life and manners of England at that time. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

BYRON'S PRISONER OF CHILLON. Page 263. 

This poem was written in Switzerland, in 181 6, shortly after Byron 
left England for the last time. When the piece was written, Byron did 
not know of any actual captive. A casual visit to the dungeon sug- 
gested the poem. There was, however, a real "prisoner of Chillon," 
named Bonnivard, who was imprisoned in Chillon for some political 
cause for six years from 1530 to 1536. 

When Byron became familiar with the story of Bonnivard, he 
celebrated him in the following noble sonnet: — 

" Eternal spirit of the chainless mind ! 
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, thou art, 
For there thy habitation is the heart, — 
The heart which love of thee alone can bind ; 
And when thy sons to fetters are consigned — 
To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom — 
Their country conquers with their martyrdom, 
And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. 
Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place, 
And thy sad floor an altar, for 'twas trod 
Until his very steps have left a trace, 
Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod, 
By Bonnivard ! May none those marks efface ! 
For they appeal from tyranny to God." 



336 NOTES. 

The " Prisoner of Chillon " does not represent Byron at his best. 
Isolated passages from " Childe Harold" and other long poems illus- 
trate better that remarkable poetic power which is called Byronic. 
This poem is, however, of deep abiding interest to young people, and 
is generally ranked as a noteworthy specimen of Byron's vigor and 
mastery of language. 

4. " Ludovico Sforza and others. The same is asserted of Marie 
Antoinette's, the wife of Louis the Sixteenth, though not in quite so 
short a period. Grief is said to have the same effect ; to such, and not 
to fear, this change in hers was to be attributed." — Byron. 

See Shakespeare (1 Henry IV. II. iv. 393): 

" Thy father's beard is turned white with the news." 

10. Banned. — Commonly used only of persons ; here it is used of 
things. Means here prohibited or interdicted. 

n. This was, etc. — The word this should be it, otherwise line 12 
is pleonastic. 11. My fathers' 1 faith. — It must be remembered that 
Bonnivard was imprisoned for political, and not religious, reasons. 

" Bonnivard, prior of St. Victor, in his endeavors to free the 
Genoese from the tyranny of Charles V. of Savoy, became very 
obnoxious to that monarch, who had him seized secretly and conveyed 
to the Castle of Chillon, where for six long years he was confined in a 
dungeon. In 1536, when the cantons of Vaud and Geneva had 
obtained their independence, the castle resisted for a long time ; but 
it was eventually captured by the Bernese, and Bonnivard and the 
other prisoners obtained their liberty." 

28. In Chillon 's dungeons. — The massive Castle of Chillon stands 
on an isolated rock in Lake Leman, in Switzerland. The castle is 
only a short distance from the shore, with which it is connected by a 
bridge. 

According to Murray's Handbook for Switzerland, "the dungeon 
of Bonnivard is airy and spacious, consisting of two aisles, almost 
like the crypt of a church. It is lighted by several windows, through 
which the sun's light passes by reflection from the surface of the 
lake up to the roof, transmitting partly also the blue color of 
the waters." 

53. That made us strangers. — See Milton's " Paradise Lost," 
Book I. lines 61-64: — 



NOTES. 337 

" A dungeon horrible on all sides round 
As one great furnace flamed ; yet from those flames 
No light ; but rather darkness visible 
Served only to discover sights of woe." 

189. Those he left behind. — The plural is used, although the elder 
brother is the sole survivor. 

Hales in his "Longer English Poems " says, " There is much deli- 
cacy in this plural. By such a fanciful multiplying of the survivors, 
the elder brother prevents self-intrusion ; himself and his loneliness 
are, as it were, kept out of sight and forgotten." 

231-250. This passage describing the deadly torpor that came on 
the prisoner (stanza ix.) is a capital specimen of Byron's wonderful 
power of language and masterly description. 

Hales says, " He is saved from that deadly torpor by the song of a 
bird, just as the Ancient Mariner is delivered from a like stagnancy by 
the sight of the fishes disporting themselves. The sympathies of his 
nature are awakened once more. His heart softens. He lives again." 

294. See Wordsworth's " Daffodils : " — 

" I wandered lonely as a cloud, 
That floats on high o'er vales and hills." 

378. A hermitage. — The student maybe reminded of Lovelace's 
famous lines : — 

" Stone walls do not a prison make, 
Nor iron bars a cage ; 
Minds innocent and quiet take 
That for an hermitage." 



CHAPTER XX. 

COWPER'S MOTHER'S PICTURE. Page 278. 

This beautiful poem was written by Cowper ten years before his 
death. He said that he had more pleasure in writing this poem than 
any other of his except one addressed to Mrs. Unwin, beginning 
" Mary ! I want a lyre of other strings." 

The letter acknowledging the receipt of the picture is dated Feb. 
27, 1790, and addressed to his cousin Mrs. Bodham. In one part of 
the letter the poet says, — 



338 NOTES. 

" The world could not have furnished you with a present so accept- 
able to me as the picture which you have so kindly sent me. I 
received it the night before last, and viewed it with a trepidation of 
nerves and spirits somewhat akin to what I should have felt had the 
dear original presented herself to my embraces. I kissed it, and hung 
it where it is the last object that I see at night, and, of course, the 
first on which I open my eyes in the morning. She died when I com- 
pleted my sixth year ; yet I remember her well, and am an ocular 
witness of the great fidelity of the copy." 

46. Cowper's father was rector at Great Berkhamstead, England. 
He died in 1756. 

56. " I can truly say," said Cowper, nearly fifty years after his 
mother's death, "that not a week passes (perhaps I might with equal 
veracity say a day) in which 1 do not think of her: such was the 
impression her tenderness made upon me, though the opportunity she 
had for showing it was so short." 

71. Niwibers. — This was a favorite word with the poets of the last 
century. Pope said, — 

" I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came." 

97. This line is quoted from a poem called " The Dispensary," by 
an obscure author named Garth. 

108. Cowper's mother was descended from several noble families, 
tracing her ancestry through four different lines to Henry III., King 
of England. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

MILTON'S LYCIDAS. Page 290. 

Milton wrote this elegy as a tribute to the memory of his friend 
Edward King, who was drowned in 1637 in his passage from Chester 
to Ireland. Those who escaped the wreck told the story of his end, 
how he knelt in prayer on the sinking deck, and so went down. A 
volume of verses was dedicated to the memory of King by his Cam- 
bridge friends. Milton's contribution, written in November, 1637, 
was " Lycidas," signed with his initials only. The verses were pub- 
lished in 1638. The style and versification of " Lycidas" show evi- 
dence of the influence of Spenser and of Milton's study of the Italian 



A'OTES. 



339 



classics. " In ' Lycidas,' " says Mark Pattison, " we have reached the 
high-water mark of English poesy, and of Milton's own production. 
In the development of the Miltonic genius this wonderful dirge marks 
the culminating point." 

i. Yet once more. — Milton had the highest conception of a poet's 
work, and of the preparation needed for it, He had determined to 
write no more until "the mellowing year" and " inward ripeness" had 
better fitted him for the task. which he thought himself destined to 
achieve. The death of his "learned friend " compels him to forego 
the resolution. 

Some critics suppose that the phrase refers to his earlier elegies, 
or is merely a formula (as with Spenser) in imitation of Virgil's " Ille 
ego qui quondam" etc. 

1,2. Laurels, myrtles, ivy. — Symbolical of poetry, and emblem- 
atical of immortality. 

15. The sacred well. — The allusion is to Pieria, the spring near 
Mount Olympus, in Macedonia. 

19. Muse. — Here used for the poet inspired by her. 

23. Self-same hill. — " The hill is, of course, Cambridge ; the joint 
feeding of the flocks is companionship in study ; the rural ditties on 
the oaten flute are academic iambics and elegiacs ; and old Damcetas 
is either Chappell, whom Milton has long forgiven [the rustication 
affair; see Life of Milton, vol. i. p. ix., Clarendon Press edition], or 
some more kindly fellow of Christ's." — Massox. 

25. Lawns. — Open space between woods. Cf. Gray's Elegy, 1. iod. 

26. Eyelids of the morn. — Cf. marginal reading of Job iii. 9. 

28. Gray-fly. — Also called the trumpet-fly. Hums sharply during 
the hottest part of the day. 

29. Battening. — Feeding or fattening. Wedgewood connects the 
word with better. 

33. Tempered. — Modulated. Oaten flute is the " tenuis avena " of 
Virgil, and the "oaten straw" and "oaten stop" of the English poets. 

34. Satyrs and Fauns. — The Satyrs were rural deities, in form half 
man and half goat, inhabiting forests. The Fauns were also rural deities, 
very like the Satyrs, but bore a nearer resemblance to human beings. 

" The Satyrs and Fauns may be the miscellaneous Cambridge 
undergraduates ; and old Damcetas may be some fellow or tutor of 
Christ's College, if not Dr. Bainbridge, the master." — Massox. 



340 NOTES. 

40. Gadding. — Straying. Marvell speaks of "gadding vines." 
Bacon says, " Envy is a gadding passion, and walketh the streets, and 
doth not keep at home." 

45. Canker. — Used here for canker-worm. 

49. Taint-worm. — The quaint old writer, Sir Thomas Browne, 
alludes to a small red spider called " taint," and regarded by the 
country people as a deadly poison to cows and horses. 

52. The steep. — " This," says Masson, " may be any of the Welsh 
mountains where the Druids lie buried." Mr. Keightley suggests 
Penmaenmawr. This overhangs the sea opposite Anglesey. It is 
1,400 feet high, and is crowned with ruins of ancient fortifications. 

54. Mona. — The reference is to Anglesea, not the Isle of Man. 

55. Deva. — The river Dee forms the old boundary between Eng- 
land and Wales. 

58. Muse herself. — Calliope. 

63. Hebrus. — Now known as the river Maritza. Lesbian. — The 
island Lesbos was in the ALgezn Sea, some eighty miles from the 
mouth of the Hebrus. 

64. Shakspeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, Massinger, and other bright 
lights of the Elizabethan age, had for some years passed away. The 
last representative of that great race — Ben Jonson — had just been 
gathered to his fellows. The race of poets which had succeeded were 
of a different breed. The dramatic period was over. There arose 
a tribe of light lyric poets, — Herrick, Suckling, Donne, Lovelace, 
Wither. It is easy to understand how, to one of Milton's high poetic 
theory and purpose, the popularity of these triflers must have suggested 
despair for himself and for his time. — Hales : Longer English Poems. 

67. Use. — Are wont to do. 

68. Amaryllis and Necera. — In pastoral poetry, girls beloved by 
the shepherds. 

70. Clear. — Noble, illustrious. Thus used often by Shakspeare. 

j 5. Fury. — The word is used here probably in a general sense. 
It was one of the Fates (and not one of the Furies) who was fabled 
to cut one's thread of life. 

85. Arethuse and Mincius. — Allusion is made to Theocritus, the 
Sicilian poet, and to Virgil, born near the Mincius. Arethuse was a 
fountain in Sicily, and Mincius was a stream near Mantua, the birth- 
place of Virgil. 



NOTES. 341 

91. Felon. — Perhaps akin to Anglo-Saxon fell, in the sense of 
cruel. The origin of the word is uncertain. 

96. Hippotades. — yEolus, the god of the winds, son of Hippotes. 

99. Panope. — Alluded to in Homer as one of the fifty sea-nymphs 
who lived in a palace at the bottom of the sea. Her sisters are the 
Nereids. Virgil calls her Panopea. The name means "the far-seeing 
one," hence she is especially named here by Milton. 

ior. /// the eclipse. — Popular superstition once regarded the eclipse 
as a time of evil omen. 

103. Camus. — God of the river Cam, near which Cambridge Uni- 
versity is situated. 

105. Figures dim. — What figures are here meant, has not vet been 
satisfactorily explained. Warburton says allusion is made " to the 
fabulous traditions of the high antiquity of Cambridge." Others think, 
to certain natural streaks on sedge-leaves or flags " when dried, or 
even beginning to wither." — Hales : Longer English Poems. 

106. Sanguine flower. — The hyacinth ; according to fable, the 
flower sprung from the blood of a youth of that name, who was 
accidentally killed by Apollo. For an interesting critical examination 
and exposition of lines 108-129, see Ruskin's "Sesame and Lilies." 

109. Pilot. — St. Peter. See Matt. iv. 18-22; Luke v. 1-11. 

no. Two keys. — See Matt. xvi. 19. 

115. See "Paradise Lost," iv. 193 ; St. John x. 12, 13. 

124. Scrannel. — Thin, meagre. This harsh-sounding line imitates 
the discordant notes of the false shepherds. 

Grim wolf. — Who is the "grim wolf"? Some make it the wolf 
in sheep's clothing, of Matt. vii. 15; others, the rapacious shepherd 
of Acts xx. 29. Morley thinks it is "the Devil, great enemy of the 
Christian sheepfold." 

130. But that two-hafided engine. — "Either the axe of the gospel 
(Matt. iii. 10; Luke iii. 9); or the executioner Death with his scythe ; 
or the sword of the Archangel Michael alluded to in line 161, etc. 
(Par. Lost, VI. 251); or the two-edged sword of the Son of man (Rev. 
i. 16, ii. 12, 16); or the two houses of Parliament; or, according to 
Morley, 'the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God') Eph. vi. 
17) ; ' two-handed,' because we lay hold of it by the Old Testament and 
the New." The usual explanation makes it the headsman's axe. This 
would seem, however, to be an after-thought. See a long and learned 



342 NOTES. 

note on the line in Masson's " Milton's Poetical Works," vol. iii. 
pp. 454-456. — Homer B. Sprague. 

132. Alpheus. — A river in Arcadia. Consult a classical dictionary 
concerning the legend about Arethusa, the " Sicilian Muse." 

138. Swart-star. — Sirius, the dog-star. It rose at Athens about 
midsummer. Called swart, or swarthy, from the effects of heat on the 
complexion. 

142-151. See Shakspeare's "Cymbeline," IV. ii. 220-230; "Win- 
ter's Tale," IV. iv. 122. 

142. Rathe. — The old word for early; hence rather, earlier. 

160. Bellerus. — One of the old Cornish giants. The word is 
coined by Milton from " Bellerium." 

161. Vision. — "The vision here is that of the Archangel Michael, 
who is related to have appeared on the mount subsequently named 
after him, seated on a crag, looking seaward. A monastery was 
founded on the spot, and the so-called ' chair ' is a fragment of the 
lantern of that building. Milton supposes the archangel still seated 
(as in the vision), looking to Namancos near Cape Finisterre." — R. G. 
Browne's ed. of Lycidas. 

163. Angel. — The critics generally make this an apostrophe to the 
"great vision," the Archangel Michael. 

164. Dolphins. — The sweet singer Arion was carried safely by the 
dolphins through the seas to land. 

173. Walked the waves. — Cf. Matt. xiv. 25, 26; Mark vi. 48, 49. 

176. A T uptial song. — Rev. xiv. 3, xix. 7, 9, xxi. 9. 

i8r. Wipe the tears. — Isa. xxv. 8 ; Rev. vii. 17, xxi. 4. 

188. Stop. — The hole of a flute or pipe. Quill, used by Spenser 
for the shepherd's pipe.. 

189. Doric lav. — Two famous poets were natives of Syracuse, a 
Dorian colony. Means here a poem in the pastoral style. 

Note. — In the preparation of the preceding notes, the author has been indebted 
to the annotated editions of the " Clarendon Press Series," Hales's "Longer English 
Poems," and to the standard texts edited by Homer B. Sprague. 



INDEX 



Addison, Joseph, 139, 249, 304. 

Outline of life, 62. 

Questions on, 63. 

Selections from, 100, 251. 
Analysis, Guide, Explanation of, 12, 23i 
58, 82. 

for Wreck of the Hesperus, 8. 

for Norman Baron, 30. 

for Lord of Burleigh, 54. 

for study of a prose selection, 81. 

use of the, 7. 
Authors, Representative, 127. 
Author, study of an, 14, 60, 83. 

Beleaguered City (text of), 145. 
Battle of Blenheim (text of), 45. 
Bob Cratchit's Christmas Dinner (text 

of), 104. 
Browning, Robert, selection from, 65. 
Bryant, William Cullen, 136, 184. 

Selections from, 21, 186. 
Burns, Robert, 137, 209. 

Outline of life, 61. 

Questions on, 62. 

Selection from, 212. 
Byron, Lord, 139, 260. 

Selection from, 263. 

Campbell, Thomas, Sketch of, 312. 
Charles the Fifth, Abdication of (text of), 

no. 
Children's Hospital, In the (text of), 67. 
Christmas Eve (text of), 152. 



Collateral study, 128. 
Cotter's Saturday Night, 212. 
Cowper, William, 139, 276. 

Selection from, 278. 
Criticism, Exercise in, 58, 82. 

Death of the Flowers (text of), 187. 
Defence of Luclcnow (text of), 72. 
Deserted Village (text of), 171. 

Questions on, 39. 
Dickens, Charles, Sketch of, 316. 

Selection from, 104. 
Dora (text of), 24. 

English Classics, Inexpensive editions of, 

3o7. 
Elegy, Gray's (text of), 193. 

Questions on, ^- 
Escape on the Cliffs (text of), 233. 
Essays on General Topics, 130. 

on special topics, 132. 

French Camp, Incident of (text of), 65. 
Frost Spirit (text of), 164. 

Goblet of Life (text of), 147. 
Goldsmith, Oliver, 136, 168, 303. 

Selection from, 171. 
Gray, Thomas, 137, 191. 

Selection from, 193. 
Hastings, Warren, Trial of (text of), 119. 
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 137, 198. 

Selection from, 200. 

343 



344 



INDEX. 



Hesperus, Wreck of the (text of), 8. 

Guide Analysis of, 8. 

As a model, 7. 

Questions, 15. 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 138, 218. 

Selections from, 220. 

Inch cape Rock (text of), 16. 
Irving, Washington, 135, 149. 

Questions on, 93. 

Selections from, 85, 152. 
Ivry, Battle of (text of), yy. 
Jeanie Deans's Plea (text of), 227. 

Lady Clare (text of), 49. 

Questions on, 52. 
Last Leaf (text of), 221. 
Lines on a Portrait (text of), 166. 
Literature in general, 1. 

English, study of, 2. 

Books useful to students of, 306. 

Class exercise in, 84. 

Miscellaneous topics in, 297. 

Monument of, 304. 

Outline course in, 126. 

Syllabus of a course in, 134. 
Little Annie's Ramble (text of), 200. 
Lochinvar (text of), 71. 
Lord of Burleigh (text of), 55. 

Guide analysis of, 54. 
Longfellow, Henry W., 135, 141. 

Outline of life, 15. 

Selections from, 8, 31, 143. 
Lycidas (text of), 290. 

Macaulay, Lord, Sketch of, 314. 

Selections from, yy, 119. 
Manual study, 129. 
Memory quotations, 58. 
Memory, aids to, 302. 
Milton, John, 140, 287. 

Selection from, 290. 
Mirza, Vision of (text of), 100. 
Motley, John Lothrop, Sketch of, 315. 

Selection from, 94. 
My Aunt (text of), 220. 



Norman Baron as a model, 30. 
Guide analysis of, 30. ' 
Text of, 31-. 
Questions on, T,y. 

Paraphrase, explained, 23- 

rules for, 34. 
Plan of the book, 5. 
Prescott, William Hickling, Sketch of, 

3 ! 7- 

Selection from, no. 
Prisoner of Chillon (text of), 263. 
Prose Selection, Study of a, 81. 

Questions on Addison, 63. 
Burns, 62. 

Deserted Village, 39. 
Gray's Elegy, 38. 
Irving, 93. 
Irving's Voyage, 92. 
Lady Clare, 52. 
Norman Baron, 37. 
Wreck of the Hesperus, 15. 

Receipt of Mother's Picture (text of), 278. 
Representative authors, 127. 
Rip Van Winkle, Return of (text of), 156. 
Rosabelle (text of), 41. 

Scott, Sir Walter, 138, 224. 

Selections from, 41, 71, 227. 
Sir Galahad (text of), 246. 
Sir Roger in the country, 251. 

at church, 255. 

death of, 257. 
Shakspeare, William, 140, 282. 

study of, 285. 

reference to famous passages from, 
286. 
Sketch Book, Questions on, 93. 
Southey, Robert, Sketch of, 310. 

Selections from, 16, 45. 
Study, Methods of, 3. 

Selections for, 16, 41, 05, 85. 

General plan of, 7, 126. 



INDEX. 



345 



Supplementary Reading, 132. 
Syllabus of a course in literature, 134. 

Tennyson, Alfred, 138, 241. 

Selections from, 24, 49, 55, 67, 72, 
244. 
Text, Study of the, 13,36. 
Thanatopsis (text of), 188. 
Tritemius, Gift of (text of), 47. 

Ulysses (text of), 244. 



Voyage, The (text of), 85. 

Questions on, 92. 
Village Blacksmith (text of), 143. 

Waterfowl, To a (text of), 1S6. 
We are Seven (text of), 19. 
Whittier, John G., 136, 162. 

Selections from, 47, 164. 
William the Silent (text of), 94. 
White-footed Deer (text of), 21. 
Wordsworth, William, Sketch of, 310. 

Selections from, 19. 



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